


The mischievous fairies (Fictober 2018)

by MorganeUK



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Clueless John, Clueless Sherlock, Cute Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, Devious Rosie, Don't know I'm bad at tagging, Emotional Baggage, Fictober 2018, Fluff, Gen, Harry to the Rescue, Heavy Petting, Kissing, M/M, Minor Molly Hooper/Greg Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson is the honorary granny!, Non-Graphic Smut, Parent!lock, Pining Greg Lestrade, Pining John, Pining Sherlock Holmes, Pre-Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Protective Harry Watson, Rosie scheming with Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are Parents, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-07-21 01:47:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 28,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16149983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganeUK/pseuds/MorganeUK
Summary: Rosie is tired of how stubborn her dad and her god-father are! She's decided that it's time to do something and she's found the best helpers! Wether she knows it or not...Fictober 2018: Each chapter title is going to follow this list: http://barbex.tumblr.com/post/178393189908/a-list-of-prompts-for-october-write-something





	1. Can you feel this?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Notjustmom for beta-ing!

Rosie was watching her movie, curls in her father's lap when something changes. "Dad?"

His eyes away from the telly and his daughter, John distractedly replies, "Yes, darling?"

"Can you feel this?" She presses her little hand over her father's heart.  _thump thump, thump thump, thump thump._

"What?" The doctor was still looking away, not realizing that his little princess was starting to panic.

"Your heart..." thump thump, thump thump,  _thump thump. "_ It's not like usual, it's faster..." She frowns, panicking at the idea of her father being sick.The little girl still remember how Granny Violet is now taking pills because her heart wasn't 'as young as it used to be!'  _She told me that it wasn't important, but I know that it's dangerous! I heard dad when he chided her that she needs to take care of herself if she does not want to go to hospital!_

Shaking his head, John kisses her softly. "Don't worry darling, my heart is perfect!"

"But... it's so fast! I don't understand... Sherlock told me that a man heart is supposed to beat from 60 up to 100 beats per minute and yours is really really fast!" Sherlock showed her how to count heartbeats to be able to know if someone is lying.  _Dad wasn't talking to me, so he wasn't fibbing about something. I don't understand!_

Laughing, pushing away the warmth that spreads in his mind at the idea of his friend's relationship with his daughter, he hugs the little girl "You probably didn't count right... Oh! What movie are you watching? Is it the one with the rats?"

She frowns, not liking that her dad was trying to change the subject.  _I am not a baby, I just turned 8-years old and I know things!_ Placing her hand back on her father heart, she counts again, realizing quickly that the rhythm was slower.  _Maybe I did not count it right!_ Keeping her hand on her father's torso she cries "SHERLOCK! Come here!" To be one hundred per cent sure that her Godfather was going to get up from the kitchen table where he was working, as a last resort, she adds, "Please.... It's for an ex-pe-ri-ment!" Suddenly, without warning, the heart behind her palm starts a fast tattoo as Sherlock walks to the sofa with an affectionate smile.

"What do you need help with, Bumblebee?"

Looking at her father's best friend then her father - whose eyes were suddenly glued to the telly - the little girl smiles happily.  _He's not sick, it's like in the movies I watched with Aunt Molly! I'm going to need help!_

 


	2. People like you have no imagination

As his daughter rushes out of the living to go to her bedroom, John looks at Sherlock dumbfounded. "What's this? She was watching her movie, then..."  _No, I'm not talking about my crazy heartbeat to Sherlock!_ "... then she ran away, just like that!"

"Do you know why she called me?" Sherlock asks perplexed.

Unable to find a plausible lie, the doctor simply shrugs, "don't have a clue. No idea what so ever!"

"It's true that people like you have no imagination..." The detective sighs, before turning on his heels to go back to his experiment.

"People like ME? That's rich coming from the most scientifically minded person I know!" Stepping out of the sofa he followed his friend into the kitchen. "And, if you need evidence, I am the writer here!"  _Ah-ha!_

With a smirk, Sherlock replies while refocusing his microscope. "It's true that your little blog is full of imaginative stuff," not realizing that John was becoming more and more agitated he adds, "and that you are unable to stick to the facts."

"You utter twat! My so-called imaginative stuff is why we've got readers and clients!" Turning away, he rushes to the door.  _Can't believe he's still unable to admit that my blog is good! What am I to him? A joke?_

Realizing that his teasing was a bit harsh, the detective tries to minimize what he said. "Come on John... it was only a joke."

_Ah-ha! I knew it, A JOKE!_ "I need air!!" A few seconds later, the noise of a slamming door resonates loudly in the building. 

 

Rosie, who was on the upper floor and heard everything, silently walks down the stairs until she was in front of Ms. Hudson's door. "Nanna, I need help for a secret project."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor John! So afraid of his feelings that he's running away at the smallest provocation...


	3. How can I trust you?

Looking lovingly at Rosie who was drinking her chocolate almond milk, Ms. Hudson was restraining a giggle with great difficulty.  _The little angel! Wanting her daddy to be happy... and realizing as we all do that his happiness can only be with Sherlock!_ Unable to stop herself, she speaks seriously to the little girl. "How do you know that your father is in love with Sherlock? They are friends so, of course, they love each other a lot!"

"It's not the same! I know the difference." Rolling her eyes like Sherlock, she continues, "when you love someone like a girlfriend or a boyfriend it's not like when it's a friend or an aunt or a granny!" 

Ms. Hudson's heart melts a bit... _She's so precious to all of us!_  "How is it different, Rosie?"

Proud of herself, the child explains to the old lady. "You don't want to kiss your friend on the mouth! You are happy when your friends are around, but your heart doesn't start beating super quickly!" 

Rosie already explained about John's heart beat that turned erratic when he was looking at Sherlock. "How do you know that he wants to kiss Sherlock?"

Placing her fingertips together in a clear attempt to mimic the detective's favourite thinking pose, Rosie closes her eyes.  _I know I'm right! I just need to find evidence!_ Thinking about all the interactions between the two men she tried to find something.  _Oh! Got it! "_ Daddy is always looking at Sherlock's lips when he talks, and Sherlock is... what's the word!...  _'notized_ every time dad licks his lips."

"Okay then, if they are  _hyp-no-tized_ by each other's lips, you're quite correct, dear, it's a good sign." Smiling, she kisses the blonde curls. "I think you're right, I'm going to help you!"

"Do you really think we are going to be able to do something? They fight so hard sometimes!"

"Don't worry, darling, sometimes when people are in love but to scared to tell each other, they are expressing their feelings the wrong way." Opening a packet of biscuits, she puts some on a small plate for Rosie.

Munching on her treat, Rosie was frowning.  _I don't understand. I don't like it._  "Nanna Martha... The wrong way?"

"Yes, little love, it's like when a boy pulls a girl's ponytail. It's dumb and not nice, but often it's just a way to show that they are interested."  _It's silly, little boys should learn how to deal with all that a better way... we aren't in the fifties anymore!_

Still unsure about all the arguing, little Watson repeats aloud, "so... when they fight, it's because they love each other but are too afraid to talk about it? Like when I'm arguing over silly things with Isabel because I'm sad she didn't invite me to her birthday party?"

"Yes, trust me on that darling. They do love each other greatly and have for a long time." John and Sherlock's oldest friend places her cup of tea on the table and winks at the little girl. 

Trying not to show how happy she was that her Nanna was on her side, she raises her chin as seriously as an 8-years old on a mission can."Do you really want to help me? How can I trust you, Nanna?"

"Yes, Rosie, you can... I think it's about time that someone helps them as they are too stubborn for their own good!"

 

When John finally returned from his energetic walk in Regent Park he was welcomed by peals of laughter coming from Ms. Hudson's flat. Stopping in front of her flat door, he smiles thinking about how fortunate they were to have the old lady in their lives.  _At least, Rosie is having a good time!_


	4. Will that be all?

Opening the door of the flat slowly, John looks inside sheepishly.  _This is silly! It's my flat! I shouldn't be afraid to enter my own flat!_ The walk did him good, Sherlock's teasing was only that, teasing. His overreaction clearly caused by his stress at being _found out_   for the pathetic loser he was by his friend if he ever _found out_   that he's in love with him!  _My therapist going to be so proud!_  he thought derisively before closing the door behind him. 

A quick glance confirms that Sherlock wasn't around. A little note pinned on the cork board informs John that the detective had left for Bart's and that Rosie was under Ms. Hudson's 'so-called supervision'.  Reading the elegant yet nearly unreadable scribble, he laughs at the ' _so-called_ ', the doctor sighs.  _How could I be afraid of a confrontation as well as disappointed because he's not here?_ His mind elsewhere he slowly walks into the kitchen to check what can be done for supper. Opening the fridge, he smiles at the unusual and still surprising vision of fresh produces and neatly labeled left-overs.  _The new experiments-only fridge in Sherlock's bedroom is perfect! Why didn't we thought of that years ago?_ Thinking fondly about his friend's quirkiness, he definitely wasn't going to be able to stay mad at him for long, he checks his phone for any message.  _Nothing. Okay, I'm going to be the grown-up and text first._

> Are you going to be home for supper? JW

While waiting for his reply, John begins prepping everything. But his thoughts keep going back to the tall git.  _The tall - beautiful, tall, sexy, intelligent - git. I shouldn't think about him like that. What we have now is perfect. I couldn't wish for better! Our friendship is strong, even better than before he went away... He's marvelous with Rosie._ Helped by years of denial, excuses were flowing easily.  _I can't break what we have right now, why risk everything? Rosie would be devastated if we leave Baker Street._ But then his thoughts were interrupted by a series of insidious 'what ifs'.   _W_ _hat if he loves me?_ _What if he also wants that?_ _What if he's into men?_ _What if he's into ME?_ _What if we can be... more?_

Little feet running up the stairs brought him back to his still empty cauldron as the little girl rushes to her father side, harboring a big happy smile. "Daddddddddddy! I've watched a movie with Nanna!"

"That's nice darling, which one?" They usually watched old musicals with Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly. Teasing her, he asks "Did you dance with Ms. Hudson all over her flat?"

"No!" She chuckles at his father's silliness "It was a romantic movie! It was so funny, the girl was in love with her best friend but she has to help with everything for his wedding!" She clambers up on a chair to sit on the table, fortunately empty of beakers, "and she puts salt in the cake, pepper in the bride's dress..." She was laughing so hard at the memory of the scene. 

Listening only with one ear, John umms and opens the fridge to get the veggies "So you had fun..."

"Yes, but it was sad also..." with a conspiratorial tone, she murmurs, "I cried a bit."

"It's okay to cry when something is sad. I often cry you know when James Bond is in the hands of bad people... and I used to be a soldier!" he confesses with a little smile "...but don't worry it's only a movie, darling!"

"Yeah, but can you imagine," the little girl was talking with all the passion an 8-year old that didn't get the present she wanted for Christmas! "Having to be there when the person you **love** more than everything is going away with **someone else**." She frowns, thinking that if Nana was right about Sherlock being in love with her dad for years, he had lived through all that when her father married her mother. "Wanting everything to be beautiful because you want your friend to be happy. Isn't that what you talked to me a while ago? Sacrifice? To do something when you don't want to because you know it's going to please someone that you loved? Like when I'm eating marmalade even if it's totally disgusting because Sherlock is happy to make my toast the same as his?" She stayed silent a bit to let her father 'simmers' (It was Ms. Hudson's suggestion!).

 _I should talk to Ms. Hudson about this, she's too young to watch rom-coms! And with all the crap I know she already watches when she's at Molly's place..._ Shaking his head, he continues to cut zucchinis and carrots in pieces.  _Poor baby, crying for a movie... Where did they found ideas like..._ The knife freezes mid-air as the idea of his wedding with his best-friend doing everything...  _but... it's not the same... I... he... we... he didn't..._ With a shaking voice, he inquires lightly "Ladybug? You haven't told me how the movie ended?"

"Don't remember!" She jumps from the table, grabs a bunch of carrot stick and saunters to the living room claiming that she's got some homework to do.

"As if! Little minx!" John mutters, knowing that her load of official homework is usually done before the class was over! Sherlock had to create an array of projects and research to keep the little girl intellectually motivated. Keeping the analysis of his wedding day for later, John wipes his hands on a nearby tea towel and grabs his phone to check if he received a reply. His heart jumps at the mention of two new texts!

> No. Don't wait for me, Rosie is grumpy when she do not eat at the regular time. SH
> 
> Will that be all? SH

Looking at the screen, John suddenly felt alone for the first time in years. The cold comment, that way of pushing him away... At the threat of unwanted tears, _I shouldn't be that emotional for God's sake! It's just a bloody text!,_ he turns towards the living room to find peace in the sight of Rosie who was busy getting her colouring pencils to attack a detailed skeleton from a book Sherlock got for her.  _That's, that's what is important._  Still holding his phone, he texted back, 'yes, that's all. See you later.' and went back to making supper. 

If Rosie heard her father's light sniffles from the living, she didn't say a word.

 


	5. Take what you need

As Sherlock distractedly drops his phone on the lab table, Molly raises her head from the corpse she was working with. "Everything all right?"

"Yes... yes..." His eyes fall back on the autopsy report he was reading before he replied to John's text.  _Was I too dismissive? Maybe he really wanted me to be home for supper even if he clearly needed time away from me when he stormed out of the flat?_ The pathologist was waiting expectantly, not believing for a moment that everything was all right. "I said that everything was fine!" But as his friend turns to go back to her work reluctantly, the detective finally murmurs "It's John..."

Turning quickly, Molly perches herself on a stool next to Sherlock "Oh? What's going on? Is he all right? Nothing wrong with Rosie?"

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Sherlock protests. "If you want me to tell something, I must be allowed enough time to reply!"

"Sorry, sorry... Go ahead!" Extending her hand she grabs her coffee mug that wasn't far and remains silent before asking softly. "What's wrong?"

"It's just that I... I was... and he..." Shaking his head to clear his mind, he tries again. "Nothing HORRIBLE... It's just that I teased him, and he overreacted - for no reason - then he ran out of the flat for a walk." He pauses, still trying to understand why John reacted so strongly to his innocent banter. "As he didn't come back, after an hour, I asked Ms. Hudson to keep Rosie until John came back and left to come over here." Taking out his phone, he read the last few texts. "He asked me half an hour ago if I'm going to be there for supper..." He stops, waiting for her input. And waits... "You can talk you know?"

"Sorry! I didn't want to interrupt you..." Curiously she adds "What do you think?"

Hesitantly, he tries to explain his mangled thoughts. "It was nice for him to ask, even if he clearly did not want to speak to me before he ran out of the flat..." 

"But..." She smiles encouragingly "It can't be that simple with you two. Go on."

"John is by default polite and... he doesn't want us to fight around Rosie..." Every word was so difficult.  _Talking about feelings is so pedestrian!_   Even if he was getting better at it since Eurus and everything that had happened. "So it's probably only for her sake that he... he asks me when I'm going to be back." His left-hand fingers nervously playing a complicate sonata on the cold metal table when he adds dismissively. "Routine, you know... children like routine."

Placing her hand over Sherlock's to stop him from falling into his restless mind further, she carefully murmurs "Aren't you overthinking that a bit in that big brain of yours?"

Pushing her hand away, he jumps from his stool. "I knew that I shouldn't have told you..."  _I don't need coddling!_

"Sherlock! Don't say that. It's just that maybe it's the other way around. That he's really sorry because he overreacted instead of explaining right away that he didn't think your comment was funny."  _What is the problem with men! Especially these two!_

"Or maybe he only wants to be sure that I eat something... being a doctor." The detective ripostes.

Soothingly, Molly objects. "Maybe he really wants you back home for supper because he wants to have a nice time with Rosie and you."

Immediately stopping on the spot, Sherlock was ready to lashing on his friend about her idea of domestic bliss but he restrains himself and simply states "Anyway, this discussion is beside the point, I've already told John that I won't be there for supper."

Molly frowns "Sherlock... What did you say?" Before launching for the detective's phone. 

"Give me that! Right now! I retract my  _I love you_   if you don't give me my phone right now!" The fact that they were able to laugh about Sherrinford was a testimony of the quality of their renewed friendship, but at the moment Sherlock was pretty annoyed by the little pest! Molly was standing on the other side of the table, a filthy rag full of blood and other bodily fluids in her gloved hand while she was opening the phone with her other one.

"You should have password protected it, Sherlock. For a detective... sometimes... Oh! Here we go." Opening the text application, Molly lets go a discouraging sigh. "Sherlock... Really?"

"What? He asked something, I answered precisely. Nothing wrong with that! Give me my phone!" 

Sliding the phone on the table in direction of her friend, the pathologist shakes her head, discouraged "Will that be all? SHERLOCK! _WILL THAT BE ALL!?_   It was John, your best friend! Not your accountant, not Mycroft, not for a case, but John!"

"What's wrong with people today! It's a perfectly normal response." As he puts his phone back in his trouser pocket, it vibrates. Holding it once more, he checks quickly. It was John. Knowing that it was pointless to hide his reply from Molly, Sherlock turns the phone in her direction.  

> Yes, that's all. See you later. JW

"Poor man... come on! You need to talk!" The formal tone was so different from their usual banter.  _This must stop at once!_ Walking in her office to get her things, she looks at her the detective. "I need to go, are you going to be all right?"

"Yes, yes, of course... But... Can I stay here for a while?" He looks so sad that Molly's heart squeezes a little.  "I won't touch anything..."

"Take what you need, Sherlock, you know that you are always welcome here."

"Thank you Molly, for everything..."

 

While rushing to the exit for her last meeting of the day, the doctor turns on her phone. "Greg? It's Molly... Are you available later tonight? We need to talk... Of course about Sherlock, who else, and John.... Yes. It's about time."


	6. I heard enough, this ends now!

Greg was waiting for Molly in the pub, a beer in front of him.  _Don't know what's going on? Hope it's not serious... I thought it was going well between them, with little Ro' and all._ He was about to text John to check on him when the pathologist drops onto the bench in front of him. Without realizing why Greg suddenly forgot to breathe as if the cute woman was stealing all the air and all the light available in the booth where they were sitting. 

_The very intimate booth._ _Shit._ _Didn't see that one coming. Hellllllo Doctor Hopper._

Not listening to a word of what the bubbly woman was talking about, Greg rises suddenly "What do you want to drink?"

Surprises by the interruption, Molly turns her head towards the bar "Oh... hum... A light cider Greg, thanks."

Muttering "Okay" the detective walks to get the drink, coming back a few minutes later with the pint of cider... Before getting up again. "Food. Do you want something to nibble on?" 

"No, not now..." Perplexed at Greg's unusual attitude, she adds, "but if you want something you--"

"Yes, peanuts, I need peanuts."  and he rushes once more to the bar where the bartender was looking at him with a smirk.

"Need help, mate?" He chuckles "...a little woman like that and you are afraid?"

"Not afraid of anything. I forgot peanuts." Grabbing the bowl he turns back to the booth.  _Get a grip for good grace! It's only Molly!_ "Sorry, what were you saying? And I forgot!" He pushes the bowl away from her "Are you allergic or something?"

"No, I'm not. And for John and Sherlock... nothing of importance, really. But, first, are you all right?"  _What's wrong with men today?!_

"Feeling great, nothing weird. At all." Drinking a few sips of his beer, he smiles his best 'normal' smile. "What do you want to talk about? About Sherlock you said?"

"... and John!" A shadow appears in her eyes as she thinks of the sad man she left in her lab.  _I hope he's at home now!  "_ The mutual pining is bordering on ridiculous! Don't you think?"

"Yes... but it's nothing new!" It was so hard to concentrate when his mind keeps going back to his burgeoning feelings for Molly.  _Why? Why now? Is it because my heart finally realized how precious she is? How available she is now that her infatuation with Sherlock has been dead and buried for ages..._ "What's special about today?"

"Nothing really, I don't think... It's just that I don't like the path they are taking!" Drinking her cider slowly, she told Greg what happened at the lab. Trying to focus on the words she was saying instead of the movements of her graceful, delicate hands while she talks about these idiots in love, Greg was lost a bit. 

"So... they fought? And you want to find a way to force them to talk?"

"No! Yes... it's just that I don't want them to fall into a trap of silence **again** and of 'what if' and... Don't you think that they deserved to be happy together? After all they went through." She pauses her empty pint with a heavy 'pock' on the old table. "I am so tired of their... their... stubbornness! GOD! They don't realize how rare it is to find the perfect person! And they are doing nothing with the chance they have! And I know that Rosie loves Sherlock very much, like a second dad! She once told me that she didn't want her dad to have a girlfriend, because they were perfect as is at home." Greg was once more hypnotized by the woman in front of him.  _She's really beautiful when she's angry! That cute perky nose. John told me that a few years ago she slapped Sherlock because he was high... I should ask Mycroft if he's got footage._ "Greg! GREG! Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes, sorry, it was a long day and..."  _you are not helping my concentration, Doctor Molly Hopper._ "I'm a bit tired."  _And I need to be alone to think a bit._

"Sorry, it's already late... I know." She remains silent a few seconds. "You are on board, yes? Are you going to help me? We must find a way to make them realize how important they are for each other?"

"Yes, I heard enough! And I'm not blind... they are obviously besotted to a fault! Since day one!" He drains his beer before extending his hand over the table. "That's a deal, Molly, we are going to find a way. This unhealthy pining is ending now!"

Jumping over the small table to hug Greg instead, Molly was beaming. "Oh thank you, Greg! You're the best friend they both could have!"

_She's so beautiful when she's happy._   _Sigh._  "You too, Molly, you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Greg! :-)


	7. No worries, we still have time

They ate in silence, Rosie aware of his father's sadness but unable to find a way to make him smile. She was curious about Sherlock's absence but was feeling that it was better not to talk about it... 

After many long minutes, he finally speaks, "I've made too much, do you want to go to Nana Martha and share it with her?"

The little girl objects quickly,"but we need to keep some for Sherlock, Daddy!" 

"I've already saved a plate for him, don't worry, ladybug." Rising, he places a little kiss on the blonde hair before plating a portion in a Tupperware for Ms. Hudson. "Here you go kiddo, and don't start a movie,  it's already late!" He was speaking the words he usually did, but his tone wasn't right. Like a comedian doing a badly rehearsed routine.

Uneasy, Rosie replies while looking at her dad with concern "Don't worry, I think I'm going to go to bed early, I'm tired... and I have school tomorrow."

"Who are you and what have you done with Rosamund Watson?" John jokes, even if it was obvious that his smile was fake. 

Stepping on her chair to be at her father level, she hugs John with force. "I love you, Daddy!"

"Me too, darling, me too..." 

Rushing down to her Nana's flat, Rosie was flustered. As soon as the old woman opens the door she places the food on the coffee table before dropping theatrically on the sofa.  _Not unlike her god-father,_  Ms. Hudson thought with a little smile. "NANA! I don't understand! It was supposed to be easy, why is Daddy so sad! Where is Sherlock? If they love each other like Harry and Meghan, why is it so complicated? They should kiss on the mouth, do disgusting things with their tongues, holding hands and be happy forever!"

Sitting near the little bundle of nerves, the lady simply stroked her back softly. "Don't worry darling. Love... it's complicated. They must realize by themselves that they are made for each other, we can't do that for them..."

"But Nana!" 

"No Rosie, they must do that alone... We can only... lets say... steer them in the right direction."

"Daddy cried this afternoon, he was in the kitchen, but I heard him." She sits near her old friend, placing her head on the comforting and familiar print of her dress, and murmurs, "I don't want him to be sad, I want him to be happy."

"I know love, don't worry... It's not over. We only start our campaign today!" Laughing warmly to cheer her nearly-grand-daughter "it's hard work helping the blind! You remember Shakespeare's stories in that book that your daddy gave you at Christmas?"

"The book with all the plays in it? It's not a story when it's for the theatre, it's a play, Nana." The book was truly beautiful and one of Rosie's most treasured possessions (even if Sherlock found that the childish rendition of the plays was, well... childish) "which one?"

"Much Ado About Nothing."

"Yes! It's my favourite, except Romeo and Juliet... and except Macbeth. I love the witches!" Her eyes gleamed and she asks in wonder, "can't we do a potion like in Harry Potter?"

"No, darling..." Ms. Hudson's laughter resonated in her flat. "You remember in Much Ado how everything was difficult for Beatrice and Benedict?"

"Yes, they were really obstinate! And  they argued all the time!" She read the play a few times, finding the banter between the two really funny.

"But with the help from their friends, they realised that they love each other." 

"Yes! They trick them! Can we do that? Sherlock is really bright and intelligent! I don't think we can trick him..."

"In the matter of the heart, he's as innocent as a kitten!" Picking up the plate with the food, she walks to the kitchen to put it in the fridge. "Don't worry, go to bed now... I will do something tomorrow to help our little project."

Kissing the fragile skin of the old lady's cheek, Rosie runs to her bedroom, a smile back on her hopeful face.

 

Later that night, the door of their flat closes nearly without a noise, but John heard it as he was waiting for it for hours now. Becoming more and more anxious with each passing hour.  _Sherlock is home._  Finally able to sleep, even if he was fighting his will to go down to talk to the man, he turns on his side and falls asleep almost instantly.

 


	8. I know you do

John wakes up after a restless night. His dreams have been disturbing, to say the least, but the now classic vision of Sherlock falling from the roof or being shot by Mary didn't wake him up. It wasn't his war flash-backs either. It was something new.

For a few months now, dreams of another nature started to take more and more places in John's nights.  The image of his naked friend and what _he was_ doing with it, or what the doctor was doing _to it_ were bouncing in his mind, awake or asleep. The guilt was killing him! The idea that he was having thoughts about his clearly not interested friend was horrible! But he couldn't stop it!  His already present morning wood became firmer as he smiles lazily at the idea of a life with Sherlock as a partner. As a naked, willing, curious, sexy as hell, partner.

Groaning and closing his eyes as the happy high pitch voice of his daughter talking with Sherlock in the kitchen reach his bedroom, a wave of guilt engulfs him once more.  _She loves him so much, he's probably her best friend! I am going to jeopardize everything because I can't control my... my urges!_ He knew of course that he was lying to himself... His sentiments for the beautiful clever man were far more than lust or an itch that need scratching!  _Nothing that could be solved by having a fling with an unknown woman... or even with him. I want more than one night! I want all his life, I want to share all of his nights..._ His wayward thoughts were shot down effectively by the feeling of all his non-essential blood going quickly back to his groin.  _Christ. Back to square one. I need a cold shower._

Perched on the countertop, Rosie was looking at her god-father while he prepares her breakfast. Only one plate. "Sherlock?" 

"Yes, bumblebee?" His voice was unusually distant. 

"You are not hungry? You are preparing only one plate." The detective usually ate when Rosie was there, something about giving a good example and being a responsible adult.   

Looking at his little set up of toast and chocolate spread, a sliced apple, and cashew milk with drops of honey in it, he frowns. "Oh... Right. No, I am not hungry, sorry, darling."

"Are you sick? If you are I can go get daddy! When my stomach aches he rubs my belly with a hot cloth and It's better after."

"No, no... I'm okay." A warmth spread in his chest at the comfortable idea of John taking care of him before he chases it away. "I... it's just that I'm not... not hungry." 

Frowning, the little girl argues. "But you didn't eat last night!" Looking at Sherlock who was already in 'real' clothes, she continues in a severe tone. "Did you even sleep last night? No. I can see that you stayed up all night!" Her concern was clear in her voice.  

Laughing softly, Sherlock helps the little girl to jump to her chair ( _The floor is lava! I can't put my foot on the floor Sherlock!_ ) and murmurs to himself, "you are so like your father sometimes..."  

"Is it a good thing or not?" John was standing in the kitchen door, a little smirk on his lips. The fact that Sherlock never realized he was getting up was evidence, if it was needed, that the detective's mind wasn't as focused as he wanted it to be. As Sherlock remains silent, John kissed Rosie, then made a dash to the bathroom keeping his bundle of clothes in front of him.

"You know Sherlock, I think it's going to be a great day! I'm going to ace that test!" Eating her toast, she was a bit sad that she didn't have to share Sherlock's horrible marmalade. The lost look on the man she considered her second father was removing any pleasure from the chocolate spread. "You know that I really love marmalade!"

"I know, bumblebee, I know you do." Not commenting on the obvious lie, the tall man pets her blonde hair. "Be quick now, darling, you're going to be late to school..."

"Do you want to walk with me?" She was wiping her mouth and picking up her school bag. "I know I'm old now, but I still like it when you are walking with me!"

Unable to say no to his little Watson, Sherlock walks up to the bathroom door and knocks. "John, I'm going to walk with Rosie. You'll probably be gone when I'm going to be back... so... so... have a good day." Taking the little girl's hand, he walks out of the flat, not waiting for his friend's reply.


	9. You shouldn't have come here

An hour or so later, Sherlock had taken his time walking home, he was back at Baker Street with a Tesco bag in hand.  _Milk, tea, bread... how domestic. But I still not know what to say to John!_ As he puts his bag down to place his coat on the peg near the front door, the voice of Ms. Hudson resonates in the lobby. _She's not alone..._ The detective sighs, a bit disgruntled. On his way home, he was weighing the option of having a chat with the old woman about...  _things._.. but the option was now unavailable. 

He was on his way to the stairs when he hears his name and stopped short to stand near her door.  _Yes, they are talking about me!  T_ he clatter of teacups, as well as Ms. Turner's voice, were all the clues the detective needs to have a vision of what was going one in 221A. __The weekly neighbourhood update. Boring! But why are they talking about me?__

"I'm so sad about Sherlock! When I think about the nice couple you've got!" The disappointment in his not-your-housekeeper's voice was clear.

"Martha! I know that you love him like a son... But are you certain that..." Ms. Turner's affectionate tone was laced with concern for her old friend.

"Oh! I know that John is madly in love with Sherlock, it's so obvious!" Restraining a gasp, Sherlock presses his head on the door, not wanting to miss anything _. What? John in love with me? Is it possible!? Is it possible that I have been so blind?_

Ms. Turner was thinking the same... "But certainly Sherlock, being a so-called genius, must know that! He's always been a bit odd... And that terrible explosion 7-years ago!"

"He is a genius!" The protective voice of Ms Hudson was indignant! Her friend was here to help them with their little trap, but she won't accept anything against Sherlock!  _How is it possible for someone to not realize that her boy was a proper genius!_ "If you don't think that he's a wonderfully intelligent man that deserved to be love, you shouldn't have come here for tea! You know how much I adore him! It's just that.." Knowing that Sherlock was listening at her door, it was hard to find the right words without hurting the sensitive man. "He's really obtuse about love and sentiment... Even though I know that in truth he's very capable of love, if anything, he's too emotional!" 

"Martha, maybe it's time for you to talk with Sherlock!"

"Think about it... Maybe I am wrong! Maybe Sherlock does not see things like that."  _But I am 100% certain! It's time, it's been more than 10 years!_  "I don't want to be the person who puts stress on their relationship!"

"But are you certain about John's feeling at least?"

"Oh yes... the poor man... it's obvious! The way he looks at him when he thinks nobody can see him, he stopped dating..." Her cheeks red, she drops her voice to a murmur and explains how she had heard John masturbating in the shower screaming Sherlock's name when his friend was out of the flat!

"Oh. My. God! That is proof!" Angry that he hasn't been able to hear that last bit, Sherlock was seconds away from opening the door!  _What? What did she say! What can be so scandalous to reduce an ex-stripper to murmuring!_

"But maybe John thinks he's going to laugh at him for his feelings... And think about Rosie!"

"Rosie is so wonderful!" Ms. Turner coos "And pretty! And well behaved... The other day I was outside trying to close my door but my hands were full, and she helped..." 

 

Not listening anymore, Sherlock rushes to his flat as silently as possible.  _Oh my God... is it possible that... Does John have feelings for me?_ Unaware that, in the flat below, Ms. Hudson and Ms. Turner were clinking their teacups, for a job well done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have time and are not afraid of a Shakespeare AU you can try my modern version of Much Ado About Nothing. Johnlock, of course :-)
> 
>  
> 
> <https://archiveofourown.org/works/11320665/chapters/25434888>  
> 


	10. You think this trouble me?

Opening the door of his flat, Sherlock realized that he had left the groceries on the floor in the entryway.  _No. No. No._ Rushing down, without his shoes and avoiding the creaky spot on the stairs, he was able to retrieve his bag without disturbing Ms. Hudson. Finally inside his flat, he bolts the door behind him, closing his eyes as he leaned against it. The kind voice of Ms. Hudson that was saying over and over that John,  _his John_ , was in love with him! The pounding of his heart was so loud that he wasn't able to hear anything else.  _John. John. John._

"Are you all right, mate?"

At Lestrade's voice, coming from the sofa, the damn bag drops from Sherlock's hand with a loud bang, effectively shaking the detective from his daydreaming. "GREG! What are you doing here?"

Still happy about being called Greg - even if Sherlock has been pretty consistent about it for years now, the novelty still hadn't worn off- the DI smiles at his friend's confusion.  _What's going in his head... Okay, playtime is over! Molly is counting on me!_ Clearing his voice, he points at the groceries. "Put that in the fridge first... then I have a case that I need help with."

Still stunned, the detective shuffles to the kitchen to store the food and prepares tea, mumbling. "Ms. Hudson shouldn't open the door to people when we are not here..."

From the living, Greg shouts "Stop fussing, she told me that you were only going to Rosie's school and back... I knew that it wouldn't be that long. Anyway, I texted you."

Checking his phone, Sherlock realized that the inspector had, in fact, texted him twice but that he was too distracted to feel the vibration of his phone going off. "Sorry... tea?"

"Yes please, I'm knackered!" Pulling up a chair, he drops a file on the kitchen table and pushes it in Sherlock's direction.

The detective frowns at the light folder.  _Doesn't look like a serious case..._  "What's this?" 

"A case... but it's informal, the HQ doesn't want us to act on it but... I don't like it." Taking the cup, he thanks his friend, "so I was wondering if..."

"If I could look it over?" 

"Yes...  It's more a reconnaissance mission. If you find something, maybe I'll be able to open a real case."

Opening the files, Sherlock rapidly read the opening sentence.  _An anonymous tip about robberies and the possibility of blackmailing._ "What's so special about it?" 

"It's in a bar, I am certain that one of the barmen is lacing the drinks with something and then waits for the customers to be... relaxed then proceed to relieve them of their cash and valuables." Putting down his tea on the table, he shakes his head. "I know it's not a big case, it's not a grand secret affair or a serial-killer but... I don't like the idea that people don't want to press charge because they are ashamed or still in the closet. And I've got the hunch that the bastard is blackmailing some of them because of that also, taking the opportunity of them being drugged to take some pictures."

The detective turns to the next page of the report, it was in a popular but discreet gay bar, somewhat posh and exclusive. "I'm going to take it."

"Just like that?"  _It can't be that easy!_

"Yes, don't like the idea of people being easy targets because of their personal life..." Since Magnussen, if it's something that he can't tolerate, it's a blackmailer!

_That case is really perfect! I couldn't have invented a better one myself... Cupid is on our side, Molly going to be so pleased!_ Trying not to be too cheerful, Greg adds, "you may have to get yourself in the target role... Play the part a bit."  _But that club is probably packed with recreational drugs users as well as the unknown stuff the barman was using, I don't like that..._

Of course, Sherlock was able to read the DI's concern in his face "Do you think that kind of situation is going to trouble me? Don't worry... I haven't touched or even thought about drugs since John and Rosie have been here." 

"I know, mate, sorry... I never doubted you." Rising from the chair after he drains the last drop of his now cold tea, Greg took the report "Do you need anything else?"

"No, I've taken snaps of the relevant pages." _It's going to be perfect, just what I need to stop thinking about John and it will give me time to process everything!_  The fact that both concepts were intertwined didn't register in his still tangled thoughts. "I will let you know as soon as I know anything."

"Thanks mate, it looks easy, but be careful." After a few seconds, he continues lightly, as an afterthought, "are you taking John with you?"  

"No, it's going to be more effective if I'm alone I think..."  _And I wouldn't know how to act if John is there looking at me, or not looking at me, or disgusted, or attracted..._ Lost again in his thoughts, he never realized that Greg had left the flat.

 


	11. But I will never forget

After work, John rushes home, eager to be with his family. Going back to Baker Street, to Rosie, Sherlock and Ms. Hudson was often the best time of the day. Even if the last days have been... somewhat weird. _And double-shifts are horrible!_

Thinking that a good scrub was mandatory before getting near his daughter -  _H_ _ow many children in London can have a cold in one day?_  - he was unable to push away the memory of his previous shower. Fortunately too tired to physically react, he was only surprised by a wave of contentment... followed by his now nearly constant feeling of shame. _I shouldn't think about him like that! He's my friend, he's probably hetero/demi-sexual and I'm not gay!_ His mind screaming 'WHO CARES!' he opens the door, happy to be finally able to relax... when his eyes fall on the sofa. "Molly?"

"Hi John! Sherlock called me because he was on a case and Ms. Hudson is at her bowling club..." As the doctor remains silent, she adds gingerly "You don't mind, do you?"

"No, no... thank you so much!" He drops his bag on his chair, smiling. "It's really nice of you, thank you! Have you eaten already?"

"Yes, Daddy!" Rosie shouts from the living room, "Sherlock left us puttanesca pasta in the fridge... it was really good!" She smirks mischievously before adding "do you know why it's called puttanesca? When I asked, he told me to ask you instead!"

_Shit. I'm going to kill him one day._  "Puttanesca* is... is a sort of tomato." 

Unable to stops her laughter, Molly kisses the little girl before taking her things "I'm sorry... I can't stay. I've got a da... a meeting I mean, with Greg... with DI Lestrade."

"Doctor Hooper!" John whistles in appreciation. "Good for you two... wish you the best."

"It's nothing, really, nothing, nothing yet..." The poor woman was turning a nice shade of red! "He invited me out for a drink. That's all."

Hugging his friend lightly, the doctor murmurs in her ear,"it's all good Molly, you deserve to be happy."

"You as well, John..." she murmurs in return, hugging him back. "You know it, right?"

"Yes, yes... it's just that right now... Everything is complicated."

"Don't overthink everything and it will be all right." Waving at Rosie one last time, she rushes to the door, not wanting to be late for her not-a-date.

 

"And now little lady, what do you want to do, all alone with your old dad?"  _First, tea!_ "Do you want something, darling? A hot chocolate?"

"Yes, please! With the special-algae-marshmallow!"

Smiling, John grabs the 5 pounds a bag of marshmallows that was the norm in the flat since Sherlock explained to Rosie how gelatin was made... _The 'perks' of living with a scientist._ "So, any ideas? Board game? Movie? Drawing? Puzzles?"

Her little voice was serious when she replies. "I want to look at the album." 

Distracted by the difficult task of boiling the milk without burning it, John asks, "which album, ladybug?"

"Your wedding album!"

The images of the wannabe assassin/photographer springs to his mind. _How is it possible to be so unlucky..._   _But on the other hand,_ a _wannabe assassin for my professional assassin wife. How fitting._ Sherlock's, 'because you choose her' echoes in his ear so precisely that he nearly turns on the spot, thinking that the detective was behind him. "We... I... don't have a real wedding album darling."

"Don't be silly daddy, yes you do!" She was holding a little scrapbooked album. "Ta-da!"

Stunned, John looks at the homemade album. "Where did you get that?"

"It's Nanna, she made it for me. She said something about not knowing if the camera was still with the police..." She was grinning, happy of her good surprise! "So she asked Molly and Greg for pictures." 

"Oh... that's nice." Pictures of Mary in her wedding dress and of both of them smiling and happy were scattered around the flat, Sherlock insisted for Rosie's sake, but he never checked the other pictures, the candid ones... Never had the time before or the will after. 

"Why is the cameraman's camera  with the police?"

"It's a photographer, not a cameraman, darling." John corrects instinctively before muttering without conviction. "I've got a USB key with the photos in my bedroom if you want to look at them one day."

"Yes! But can we look at Nanna's album now, right?" She was jumping, happily holding the little album. "She put stickers in it, with little hearts and flowers!"

Unable to say no to his little bundle of joy (and trouble), John walks to the sofa holding his tea and Rosie's hot chocolate. "Come sit over here... Let's look at Nanna Martha's handiwork." 

Looking at her dad with a frown, Rosie sits near him on the sofa. "Daddy, are you sad because Mummy is in the pictures?"

"No, don't worry, it's okay, darling... It's normal that you are curious..." his voice broke a little, it wasn't fair that today of all days Rosie asks about this but it wasn't her fault. "I am always happy to remember the good times we had."

"Did you forget her?"

"No, and I never will, ladybug. How could I, when she gave me the most beautiful present?"

"What is it? Is it your iPod? You know I want an iPhone for Christmas!"

"No, you silly girl, it's you." With a kiss on her blonde hair, so similar to Mary's, he braces himself and opens the album.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Puttanesca: Italian, short for alla puttanesca, literally, in the style of a prostitute


	12. Who could do this?

The flat was dark, Rosie already asleep in bed. John was sitting alone at the kitchen table, an untouched cup of tea next to his hand. 

Alcohol wasn't a problem anymore, he knows he has too much to lose if he uses it as a coping mechanism. He had slowed down his consumption with the help of his therapist when he realized the path he was following. Sometimes he still likes a good whiskey, not to forget, or to hide his feeling but because he likes the taste and he likes to relax and drink with his friends on certain occasions. He laughs silently as he remembers his stag night.  _God! For a former user, Sherlock was sure a lightweight!_ Thinking about his friend, the doctor sighs sadly to himself. 

_What am I going to do?_

Pushing away the cup, he places the little photo album in front of him and starts to turn the pages, one after the other. He didn't allow himself to look too closely when he had shared it with his daughter. But now... 

_The speech. Sherlock. The poor man looked like a deer in headlight at first but went back to his usual self as soon as he realized about the Mayfly man... but me? Me. I'm looking at him as if he was the most marvellous human being in the whole world! Which he is, in so many ways!  That speech... I dreamed of that speech! All the sentiment I never realized Sherlock was able to feel._ On another page, Sherlock was playing his violin. At first glance, it looks as if he was only playing his instrument, but... his eyes...  _God, he looks in pain._ The photo of Mary and himself dancing together after they realized that Mary was pregnant was beautiful, they both look a bit shocked but happy. Looking at every face in the picture he frowns as he sees Molly's expression. She was sad, looking away from them when everyone else was dancing or looking at the new couple with fondness. Following her gaze, he founds at the edge of the picture the silhouette of a lonely Sherlock. Scrutinizing Molly once more he understands that her look wasn't one of sadness but of pity...  _Pity for what? Because he was alone? Because Janine wasn't dancing with him? Because he is... sad? Why sad? It was a happy occasion! Or maybe... maybe..._ _Is it possible? Could I have been that blind? No, that's impossible! Sherlock, pining for me? Even... in love with me? No, it's impossible..._

The story Rosie talked about the other day, the one where the best friend was in love with his friend but has to help with the wedding and all, flashes suddenly in his mind. _Sherlock was so helpful, not his usual self. Trying to do everything he could to give us the wedding of our dreams.  But why? If he... if he loved me, why play the dutiful friend, why learn how to do origami with fucking napkins! Who could do this? We are not in a damn rom-com, nobody is that altruistic! Nobody!_

His heart in shambles, unable to find the right thing to do, John closes his eyes a second...  Before instantly opening them again! _Sherlock! Sherlock is capable of those feelings, that altruism! He faked his death and personally destroyed Moriarty's network to protect us!  Is it possible that... he was in love with me, for real? Or is it friendship? _He felt so guilty when he came back so he tried to be as useful as possible. It was driving me mad, that puppy attitude!__

Shaking his head, as if it could help clarify his thoughts, John was unable to stop the feeling of hope that was blossoming in his heart. Before doubts destroyed everything. 

_Maybe he was in love with me **before**. Before I coerced him to be my best-man, before I left him alone for months after our honeymoon, before my wife... before she nearly killed him. Before I nearly killed him myself... _

_We need to talk!_

_Where the hell is he?_


	13. Try harder next time

"You've done what!" Molly wasn't able to stop laughing at the thought. "A case in a gay bar!? Wait until John finds out about this... Or when he sees Sherlock in club wear."  Greg, nursing his beer, wasn't really drinking... so occupied he was in watching the pathologist's merriment.  The woman, realizing the heat in Greg's eyes, suddenly felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Chiding herself without great success,  _It's for John and Sherlock,_ she hides her emotions behind her wine glass. _Greg and I... we are talking att the time. It shouldn't be that exciting to meet him for a drink, it's just... Greg!_ Still laughing, she asks "Is John going with him?" 

"No, Sherlock decided he was okay alone as it's only a reconnaissance mission." Remembering the detective's erratic mood, he adds quietly, "he was so weird... I can't recall seeing him so frazzled and when I asked about bringing John with him I'll swear that he blushed! It was fucking adorable!"

"As I told you the other day, he was pretty emotional about the little argument they had. In fact, I think he was feeling really sorry and decided to simply leave to John room to breathe. Even if in my opinion John overreacted at Sherlock's teasing!" 

"Well... It doesn't help us help them if Sherlock is doing his best to stay away from John!"

"What can we do? We can't force them to spend time together!"  _It's going to take more wine!_ "I'm going to the bar, do you want another drink?"

"No, thanks..." In fact, the inspector beer was still mostly untouched. Cheesily, he adds, "I don't need anything except the pleasure of your company... so don't take to long." The tender moment was interrupted by a cold voice.

"A whiskey please for me, Doctor Hooper, if they have a decent one in this... establishment."

They turn quickly at the voice. Mycroft Holmes was standing near their table, looking out of place in the quaint little pub. His suit and umbrella as pristine as always. 

"What are you doing here Mycroft?" Greg asks, frowning.

"It appears that you need help... for your little project." Rolling his eyes - so much like his brother! He continues with a bit of undisguised disgust in his voice "If I wait for your feeble attempts, my parents are going to be dead before they can attend the wedding!"

As Greg protests that they were doing just fine, Molly mutters, "you know?" 

"Of course, who do you think found that perfect little case and dropped it on DI Lestrade desk?" turning to Lestrade, he shakes his head derisively as Greg growls impatiently at Mycroft smugness. Hanging his umbrella and coat on the nearby rack, he finally sits in the seat in front of Greg, pushing Molly's things near Greg with a smirk.  _At least, those two are going somewhere._

  

Sherlock was surveying the club, trying to find the culprit or any peculiar situation. So far, he found nothing. Nothing of importance...  _Except the usual. That man is cheating on his wife, the waiter is stealing a portion of his colleagues' tips, the bouncer is letting minors inside if they give him a big enough tip... Boring. Boring. Boring._ A man slowly left the dance floor and walks with assurance in direction of the detective.  _Oh no... Not again. It's the fifth in the last hour alone! Why are they all so clueless! My demeanour is screaming that I want to be left alone!_ In the man's defense, Sherlock did look delicious. His usual suit - already definitely sexy enough to attract anyone - was replaced by a more casual look. He was breathtaking in a tight pair of black jeans, his beloved aubergine shirt unbuttoned a bit lower with his sleeves unusually carefully rolled-up exposing his alabaster skin, a heavy, yet beautifully made gold chain completed the look

"Hello you... Do you want to dance?"

Looking at the man, he was objectively beautiful and maybe a few years older than Sherlock, the detective turns away and leans his arms on the bar before enunciating clearly  "No."

"Come on, a beautiful man like you?" His ravenous eyes were taking in the lite form of the detective, longing to pull on the dark, luscious curls "You can't stay there all night long."

Taking a sip of his drink, Sherlock repeats for the umpteenth time that night, "is that really the best you can do? Try harder next time. But with another man. Because I am not interested."

Pushing himself on Sherlock's back, the man (clearly deaf or an idiot) places his arms around the detective before pressing them on the bar effectively trapping Sherlock on his stool. "You can't come here dressed like that and do nothing... you are a prick-teaser."

"Or I can be not interested with your below average cock and intelligence." The brunet replies, now exasperated by the man. "Get. Your. Hands. Off.  Of. Me."

"Or what?" The man chuckles, clearly not intimidated by his prey who was a good 3 stones lighter than him.

Elbowing the man in the stomach, he promptly gets up and, using the stool to trip the man, he presses a booted foot on his back. "... Or that." As the bouncer rushes to appraise the situation, Sherlock drops 50 quid on the bar for the trouble and left quickly.

Making his way to the sidewalk and looking for a cab, Sherlock was angry at the wasted evening!  _It's going to be difficult to go back now, I should have waited for John._ Lost in his thoughts, which was a common occurrence nowadays, he never realizes what happened when a black silhouette suddenly pulls him back into the dark alley behind the club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rosie, Ms Hudson, Greg, Molly and now Mycroft! 
> 
> How many fairies John and Sherlock need to finally open their damn eyes! At the same time while in the same room if possible!
> 
> If you are still reading that all over the place little story say 'hi'!


	14. Some people call this wisdom...

"I can't believe it was you!" Greg was still looking at Mycroft with amazement. "How did you know what we were trying to do?"

With a cryptic smile, Mycroft explains "Some people call this wisdom, detective."

"Let's say, we are calling that being a bloody know-it-all..." Greg mutters into his beer.

"It was for a good cause! Don't fuss Lestrade, we are going for the same end result after all..."

Not believing a word from the politician, Greg protests loudly. "Don't tell me the happiness of your brother is what you're after! And is it a real case or is everything fake?"

They stop arguing as Molly returned with her wine and Mycroft's whiskey. "I hope it's satisfactory for you Mr Holmes... They told me it's the best they have."

"I'm sure it's fine, dear, thank you." Barely wincing at the first sip, he continues, "sadly, this is a real case. How is everything going on that front, Inspector? Did the plan of having both of them in a bar where John is sure to become jealous and finally act on his..." his voice unable to say 'love' he went for the more basic "impulses?"

"You know how it went!" Greg suddenly drains his beer, the man is so irritating! "He decided to go there alone."

"No, I wasn't aware." The man deadpans. "It's new information to me, I swear."  _Anyway, it shouldn't be anything that Sherlock can't handle alone, even if it's counter-productive to our current goal._

"It's not important, right?" Molly intervenes, not wanting the discussion to turn in a cockfight. "When Sherlock goes back home at the end of the evening, he's going to so pumped up by the case and John is going to be flabbergasted and totally turned on by his look." She smiles dreamily to herself. "Oh yes... He's going to be impressed."         

Greg, turning to look at Molly asks under his breath, "what did you say?" 

"Hum?" 

"About Sherlock... that he... he's... going to turn John on."  Trying to avoid Mycroft's mocking eyes, he wasn't able to stop himself. "How do you... know that?" 

"I am not in love with or attracted to Sherlock, Greg! It's water under the bridge like I've told you so many times!" She waves her hand to call the waitress who was nearby. "Any idiot realizes that he's bloody sexy! I've already seen how he dresses when he's going to a club, and John does not stand a chance." 

John was in the middle of a glorious dream when a hand shakes his shoulder. He springs out of his chair - years of reflexes and his lack of proper sleep recently were keeping him on the edge - when he saw a little silhouette on the other side of the kitchen table. "What the hell... Harry?"

"Hello, brother, sorry it's so late." she wiggles the key he gave her years ago in case of an emergency with Rosie.

"Is there something... Clara?"

"No, everything's going well," Without asking, she sits at the table with an angelic smile. "It's just that I wanted to know how you are doing nowadays."

Laughing at the blatant lie, he presses the heels of his hand on his eyes and stretches his back before he gets up to make tea. "We meet for a coffee once a month," he smiles mockingly "... and this is I think the best we can do without going for each other's throats. What are you here at nearly midnight?"

"Rosie. Rosie called me."

"Rosie? Why?" 

"She told me you were sad and that she doesn't know what to do..." Tilting her head seriously, she points at the wedding album that was opened at a picture of Sherlock and him.  _The groom and his best-man... that day was so wrong. Such a waste of time..._ "What's going on John?"

'Nothing's wrong... nothing more than usual." Looking at his sister, John asks a question that he never dares to say out loud before.  _But lying to myself is over!_ "Harry... you... you never told me why you didn't come to my wedding. Why?"

"As I told you, I was out of London..." 

"Harry..." John warns. "Don't lie to me. It's been years, you can tell me the truth. If you were... unwell at that time..."

"I wasn't in rehab... And since Rosie was born, I haven't touched alcohol and you know it. She's so precious, a real angel." She thanks her brother for the cup of tea but didn't drink right away, her mind looking for the right words, for the right things to say. _With everything that happened with Mary, and I doesn't know half of it probably!, I can't say that I didn't come to the wedding because I thought that he was making a tremendous error! And Rosie is there now..._  "You know that he called me. Many times." She chuckles "God, the man is persistent..."

Frowning, John looks at his sister. "What are you talking about?"

"Sherlock. He called me, tried to manipulate me to cancel my seminar. Even sent me a First Class plane ticket so I could come back for the day when he realized that I was really in Zurich."  _As if I was going to assist that masquerade!_

"But... Why... I... I didn't ask him. I told him that if you didn't want to be there, or couldn't, it was better to respect your decision." John was stirring his tea, absentmindedly. "I'm sorry, he shouldn't have insisted." A dreamy smile appears on his lips as he thought of his friend. "Sometimes, he's so focused that he can be too insistent! Really sorry..." 

Shaking her head at his brother's blindness, Harry slaps at him playfully. "It was for you, idiot."  

"Ouch! Don't do that! We aren't children anymore!" The words she said finally registered in his head "What do you mean it was for me? Of course, it was for ME, it was MY wedding!"

"He wanted it to be perfect. For YOU." Fighting tears, Harry closes her eyes a second.  _How could he be so thick sometimes!_   "You know... a few years back when I left Clara."

"Yes," John was still angry at his sister for that foolish move! "That was the stupidest thing that you ever did! That woman loves you so so much!" John winces as he remembers the heated arguments he had with his sister, the many times her acute pain cause relapses... 

"I remember, you were so angry at me..." slowly, she brings the cup to her lips, the fragrant tea familiar and comforting. 

"Yes I was... it was a dumb move." the doctor grumbles "You are lucky that Clara was patient enough and that you were able to patch up everything..." 

Raising her head high, the woman simply replies, "you never understand, as you don't understand right now."

"Understand what?"  _God! This week will never end... Everybody thinks they know everything!_

With a warm look, Harry places her hand on the beautiful picture of the two men that was right before them. "I loved her so much that I wanted her to be happy, even if it's wasn't with me. **I** wanted **her** happy whatever the cost to **me** was."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes... Rosie called another fairy!


	15. I thought you had forgotten.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of Harry and John conversation...

They sit in silence, John looking at the picture while his sister's words sink deeper and deeper.  _ **I**  wanted  **her**  happy whatever the cost to  **me**_ _was._

With a broken voice, he murmurs "I've been an idiot... I've hidden my self behind my 'not gay' or 'not a couple' for years and years... when..." Harry was waiting, knowing that it must come from him and that putting thoughts in his mind and words in his mouth wasn't what he needed right now. "... when... I love him, so completely." His voice was so low, that Harry nearly asks him to repeat them. But before she dares, he raises his head and the purest smile appears on his lips before he repeats, "I'm in love with Sherlock..." his smile drops as quick as he appeared "but..."

Harriet was able to read everything in her brother's face. The fears of following his emotions, the desire to do so, the longing in his eyes when he unconsciously looked in the direction of Sherlock's room, the doubt of bringing Rosie into all the potential drama, the love, the uncontrolled fear... "But?" she pushes softly.

"... but I'm scared, Harry! Afraid that he doesn't love me back, afraid that he does, afraid that I won't be able to live with him as a friend anymore if... he doesn't, afraid of his pity." John utters with a shaking voice, "it just hurts so much." 

"I haven't talked with him in a long time, but I am certain that he loves you as you deserve, John, I'm certain -"

"You only argued with him on my blog, you never had a chat with him except when he tried to 'guilt' you into going to my wedding..."

"Your blog..." she smirks, "I thought you had forgotten about all those innuendos that I kept making in my comments." _Men are so thick sometimes! Especially closeted ones!_  She chuckles before becoming serious again. "Trust me. He loves you. Always has, always will, I know it. In my guts."

"How could you know? Maybe before... But now... He can't, he couldn't...  I've been... I've been horrible. You don't know everything."  _Oh God, Rosie... How could I do that to Rosie! Risk everything! She loves Sherlock as if he was her second parent!_

Harry places a calming hand on his brother's forearm. "Be honest, I'm sure that living with Sherlock is not a walk in the park either."

"No, far from that, but it's nothing... Nothing compared to what I and... and Mary did to him." Furthermore, now that he allows himself to think about this after nearly a decade, he finally found the courage to ask another question.  _Is it possible that I - unconsciously or not - knew about his feelings and that I asked him to be my best-man to make him pay?  To voluntarily make him suffer?_ At that point, the doctor was shaking, the tremors in his hand unable to stop.  _Pay for my pain, for the doubts his return caused? To prove that I can be somewhat happy without him? I've been horrible... If he loved me when he returned, IF, I've effectively killed any feelings he could have had for me then!_ Head between his legs, he was seconds away from hyperventilating when his sister places a hand gently on his shoulder.

"JOHN! Stop panicking..." 

Not wanting to stop, knowing that he deserved all the pain he was in at the moment, John feebly protests, "but -"

"Look at me." Taking his face in her hands, she looks at him directly in his tearfull eyes. "Did he forgive you?"

"Yes, he did, wholeheartedly, but you don't understand... I don't deserve to -"

Shaking her head hard, not wanting to hear anything more, she argues fiercely. "NOT IMPORTANT! Did he forgive you, for everything?"

"Yes but -"

"So why can't you forgive yourself, brother mine?"

Unknown to Harry, it was the familiarity of these two words that did it. John finally broke down in tears in his sister's arms, all the lies he had told himself for years crumbling around them.  Holding her brother tight, her only thought was,  _and now, where is the git?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not super long... but one chapter a day. Someday are more hectic than other :-)
> 
> John finally admitting his feelings for Sherlock out loud. To another human being. Yeah! Yeah!


	16. This is gonna be so much fun!

_I am dreaming... No_ , he corrects himself,  _not a dream. In my Mind Palace, but why is everything kind of blurry?_

Turning slowly, Sherlock looks at the different options available. _Experiences? No, I'm not in the mood... Archives of the most curious criminals? No, I have nothing new to add to it... The criminal class is so bland nowadays. Family? No, better not tempting fate. Everything is in order since I've put back my childhood memories and I haven't been to Sherrinford in months. So nothing new. Mary's? No, not Mary's room._ _I'm not well enough to deal with her right now._..  _Better keep it shut._

He was lying to himself, of course, he absolutely knew where he wants to go. Where he needs to go. 

His haven when everything around him wasn't feeling right. 

It wasn't the most flamboyant door, nor the richest one. But it was of the most wonderful oak. Sturdy, able to block anything, beautiful in his simplicity, the perfect backdrop for Sherlock's black curls and elegant silhouette. 

John's room.

Fragile, the detective voluntarily avoided that section of his Mind Palace over the last days, not wanting to bring his dream vision of his flatmate into the turmoil of his current reflection. But now, it was impossible to resist. His head drops on the closed door, peace falling all around him.

_John._

Fighting the will to stroke the door like a lover, he carefully enters the room. The brightest, biggest room of all his Mind Palace. The doctor was there, in his chair, drinking his tea while reading. A soft smile appears on his lips as Sherlock enters, his voice resonates eerily but so real at the same time.  _Hello love, where have you been? It's been days... I missed you so much..._ Not wanting to break the illusion, the detective remains silent and simply sits on his doctor knees. Molding his body into the protective arms, reveling in the warmth and the feelings of security.  _Shush... Shush..._  John says,  _don't worry love I am here now. Stay with me..._ Kissing the doctor's glorious lips, Sherlock lost his grasp on reality, wanting to stay there forever.  _Is it better to be here with a John who loves me or go back to reality?  I don't care... I just want to feel better!_ The doubts disappeared, replaced by a deep sense of peace. The voice of Ms. Hudson claiming that John - the real John - loves him, is pushed away.  _THIS John is loving me, THIS John is mine!_

Suddenly, the room starts to vanishes.  The simulation of Baker Street was fading out, leaving Sherlock alone in a dark place, cold...  _Without John. No! No! Don't go! I don't want to go!_ The physical feeling of moisture on his cheeks was pushing him towards the exit. _Why am I crying?_   His physical self was finally getting the upper hand on his psyche. His brain finally remembered the case, the hand that pulled him away from the street.

"Wake up! Mister Holmes!" Sherlock was slowly trying to keep his eyes open, fighting the sedative that was still in his blood."Ah! Here you are! Here, drink some water." A bottle of fresh water was gently pressed to his lips, a hand delicately holding his head. "I'm sorry... So so sorry... I didn't want you to argue with me so I..." the voice was respectful, clearly afraid of his wrath, "I used a bit of a sedative... but I didn't calculate... A bit stronger than needed."

_Where am I? There was nothing in the file about something happening outside the bar! That voice... no... it's impossible... What the Hell!_ "You? You idiot! What have you done? IDIOT! Explain NOW... hmmm... I have the feeling this is going to be so much fun."   _Or not. Can someone please kill me now?_

 

 


	17. I’ll tell you but you’re not gonna like it.

After the doctor's sobbing and state of panic finally slowed, then stopped, John admitted without shame that he was totally in love with his best friend and probably had been since the day they had met. 

Fresh tea was made and they talked. About everything. 

Their bigoted mother, their alcoholic violent father, when Harry ran from home, when John enlisted in the army to ensure his education and a way out of their family. And they talked about Sherlock... _Oh boy, we talked about him!_ Harry smirks silently. _Don't know where he is, but his ears must have rung all night long!_ Shaking her head, she remembers with affection her brother rambling about the tall, beautiful man. Over and over again! The woman learned more about the detective, and her brother at the same time, than she ever thought possible! 

_You don't really know him, Harry, I know you're going to love him! He's so brilliant! And funny! I'm usually the only one who catches his jokes when he deadpans about something, but he's so brilliant._ He used his phone to show (too) much pictures of his friend, many with Rosie.  _I know it's not your game, but you can't deny he's stunning! Elegant but clumsy like a puppy at some time! His hands, just to think about his hands... And his mouth, God!_ Harry teased him about his sudden pink complexion before he changes to a more neutral subject, happy about the light banter. _Oh and with Rosie... He's the best god-father! Rosie loves him so much, sometimes I wish that the people who called him a freak or psychopath saw how perfectly he takes care of her, how perfect they are together..._

Now that his decision to talk to the man was made, the doubt never lingered long.  _Do you think Rosie going to miss not having a mom? No, of course, as she's going to have the most caring parents in all London! And with Molly, Ms. Hudson, Mrs. Holmes, and her Aunt Harry she's going to have all the women she needs in her life!  Don't you think?_ He was anxiously looking at the time, obviously wondering where Sherlock was, his absence sometimes destroying all his happy thoughts in a blink of an eye.  _I don't know where he is exactly, it's supposed to be a case._ _Do you think he's avoiding me?_ He called Greg an hour ago, but he wasn't really helpful.  _He just told me to wait for him... I don't understand, he was... I don't know, cheerful. So weird._  

 

At 2 in the morning, Harry convinced John to go to bed until Sherlock showed up. He was already nearly asleep as he crawled into bed, Harry by his side.  _Poor John, he's so hard on himself, he's so tired!_ She didn't know exactly what they did to Sherlock, but she wasn't doubting that John was regretting everything.  _And that remorse was killing him and was an impediment to his future happiness. So happy that he's finally able to look further than the errors of their past!_  

Looking around her brother's bedroom, she was still seeing the military rigour but an openness that she can't remember ever having seen, even in his youth. 

The room was little, it was created by closing the landing on the upper floor to effectively joined Rosie's bedroom and John's new one to the main room below.  _It's now a real family home, warmer than our house ever was!_  If the bed had been made to a military precision when Harry untucked the sheets, the rest of the room was warm and cosy. Above the bed, many of her niece's creations were artfully hang. The bedside table was full of novels and knickknacks.  _Spies and mysteries... Nothing really changes!_ On his chest of drawers, at the place of honour, a beautiful candid picture of Sherlock and Rosie.  _The loves of his life. Both of them... Now that he accepts the truth, the real work will begin!_ Stroking her brother's ash blond hair, she finally closed her eyes a bit.  _God, I'm tired! All these emotions are exhausting!_

An hour or so later, Harry can't really say, her brother's phone pings breaking the silence in the room. Not wanting to wake up her brother, she quickly grabs the phone to check the text.  _It's from that man, Lestrade._   _Is Sherlock home yet? He left the club 3 hours ago and doesn't reply to my texts. I don't like it._ Without waking anybody, she silently walks down the stairs and looks in the living room. The room was as they left it, nothing new. No coat, no shoes... No one on the sofa, she now knows all the sleeping habits of Sherlock Holmes! Knocking on his bedroom door lightly, she opens the door to find an empty bed.  _No, no, no! Don't do this to my brother, you git! If you found a way to get yourself killed I'm going to be so angry!!!_   

Running upstairs she shakes her brother until he opens his eyes and gave him the phone and waits for a few seconds for John to read the text before murmuring with concern, "he's not home!"

 

Greg was looking at his phone, frowning. At Molly's curious glances, he explains, "i've texted Sherlock, fifteen times, but he doesn't reply."

"You told me that the case wasn't dangerous!" Mycroft had left an hour ago, leaving them alone. "Maybe he's at Baker Street, with John?"

"Yes, I'm going to call him!"

Laughing, Molly places a delicate hand on Greg's arm. "Maybe they won't want to be interrupted... better to text!"

Red as a beet at the idea of disturbing his friends in the middle of something, he nods. "Yes, a text is better..."  He quickly sent a few words and put his phone down. He was on the brink of asking Molly if she was interested in a nightcap at his place as the pub was going to close soon, when his phone rings. "It's John!" without hesitation, Greg picks it up. "John! Talk to me!"

"I’ll tell you but you’re not gonna like it. Sherlock is not here... I didn't receive any texts either." John's heart was racing.  _Where is he?_

"Shit! Where he is?"  _How could a situation that was created to help them finally talk to each other be so... Fuck!_

"I don't have a clue, where was this case of yours?"  _It's our only clue! "_ Maybe he's still at the bar?"

"My contact told me that he really left 2 hours ago..."

Rushing to get his clothes on that were still on the floor, he asks, "what's the name of the place, I'm going to have a look right now!"

"He was at The William..." The line became suddenly silent.

"Oh... But...Maybe..."  _Maybe he left with a man. Maybe I am too late._

Realizing what's going on in his friend's mind, it was after all the main reason why they chose a case in a gay club! In order to help the doctor to look at Sherlock as a sexual being, as a potential lover, Greg responds soothingly, "John... Calm down. He left alone." 

"Good, then good... Because that means that he didn't leave with a murderer, you know..." Instantly kicking into Captain Watson mode, he offers, "what can I do?"

"I am calling Mycroft, don't move, I'm calling you right after." Ending the call to a troubled John, Greg presses Mycroft's name in his directory. The man, who clearly wasn't asleep, replies immediately.

"Inspector, what can I do for you at this ungodly hour?" 

Not letting the cold voice of the man frazzle him, he utters succinctly,"we lost Sherlock!"

 

 


	18. You should have seen it

Mycroft's car picked up Greg and Molly at the pub and rushed in the direction of Baker Street. Greg, looking obliquely at Holmes, wasn't one-hundred percent sure of the man's non-implication in all this.  _He was the one who put that case on my desk after all..._ "Talk!"  Turning away from the window, Mycroft frowns as if he wasn't aware of what Greg was talking about.  "I know you have something to do with this!"

"With my brother's disappearance? No, I swear... I do not have a habit of doing magic tricks with my brother, Lestrade!"

At that, Molly, still a bit sloshed from all the alcohol she drank, laughs. "You can't say that though... you helped Sherlock disappeared for more than 2 years!"

"It's not the same, and one time does not a habit make!"

"And that time, just before Moriarty's fake return?" Greg was remembering like it was yesterday, after Christmas that year Sherlock was MIA for a week. 

Rolling his eyes, the government man only mutters, "it wasn't the same thing... Anyway, I have nothing to do with my brother's disappearance right now!" 

Molly, a bit tearful, unbuckled her safety belt to engulf the cold man in her arms "So, you are really worried... Poor poor Mister Holmes!" 

"Ahum, Doctor Hopper, don't worry, I am fine. It's not the first time my brother..."  As Molly was now crying earnestly about the (apparently) strained relationship between the brothers, he pats the woman's back with a panicked look at Lestrade.

Encouraging her back to her place gently, Greg murmurs as he clicks her safety belt back on. "Molly, darling, better to sit back in your seat with the belt on... Security and all that. I am a copper, remember."

 

Twenty minutes later, they were at Baker Street, where Greg helped a snoring Molly onto the couch. "Here you go, love, sleep well." With a loving smile, he kisses the forehead of the sleeping woman.

John, smiling for the first time in the last hour, asks with a smirk "Care to elaborate, DI Lestrade?"

"Pff! As if you can talk, brother! You should have seen it, a few hours ago, the tender scene of my ex-soldier brother... all mopey and sighing for HIS wonderful, brilliant and sexy AF friend!" Harry grins to John's dismay.

"HARRY!" the doctor's cheeks redden quickly."This is not the time anyway... we must find Sherlock! Please, keep an eye and ear out for Rosie and Molly."

After giving her brother a hug, Harry pushes him toward the door "Of course, don't worry, John, go get him!"

 

 

Finally able to move his head, Sherlock slowly looks around the room. It appeared a small cabin. Wood floor, plaster walls, a fireplace...  _Exactly like the thousands of identical cabins scattered through the English forests!  Comfy but secluded._ He listens carefully, but could hear nothing helpful.  _Generic birds, far away car... No radio..._ His hands were shackled to the sides of the solid chair, without any real possibility of breaking out of them.  Exasperated, the detective looks into the eyes of the man in front of him. "Say something, I'm waiting! FUCK! What the hell?!" The man winces at Sherlock's unusual use of language. "Don't just stand there trembling like a coward! What's the meaning of all this?" 

"First of all, I want you to know that I have nothing to do with the blackmail in the bar, nothing!" He was playing nervously with his hands.

"I know, you are too stupid to be able to do something like that..."

"I am not stupid! Stop saying that!" He looked hurt, on the verge of tears. "But it's okay, I know that you are entitled to think that... Even if it's been ten years!" Straightening his posture a bit, he announces proudly, "and I want you to know that I have nothing against gay people." before adding with a concerned look. "Even if I am not attracted to men. At all."

"A dear happiness to men: they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor..." Sherlock mutters, rolling his eyes. 

"Oh!" The face of his captor suddenly brightened in recognition."Shakespeare, right? As I recalled that you liked his work, I started an online course a few years ago! It's really interesting, do you know that --"

"I don't care!"

"Sorry, sorry, I'm rambling again. Do you need something? More water perhaps?"

"I want to know what exactly is the point of all this." Trying without success to get out of his manacles again, he shouts angrily, "NOW! ANDERSON! Why are you doing this?"  

"Why?! To redeem myself, of course!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! Anderson!!


	19. Oh please, like this is the worst I have done!

As soon as the door of the sedan was closed, John asked, "Mycroft, have you found something?"

"Thanks, mate, to suppose that I know nothing!" Greg protested, a bit disgruntled to feel useless.

"Don't take it like that, Greg, it's just... that you know..." After a pause, he concluded by adding, "Holmeses," as if that would explain everything.

Still not convinced that Mycroft was innocent in all what was happening, Lestrade murmured under his breath "Particularly if he's the one behind it..."

"WHAT!" John quickly turns to Sherlock's brother who was at his right. "It's your fault? Where he is?"

"What DI Lestrade means to say is that I am the one who sent him the case as a member of the parliament was among the victims," Holmes replied in a benevolent tone.

"Yeah, yeah, that's what I meant to say," Greg grunted.

"Okay, whatever..." John crossed his arms and glared at Mycroft. "Do you know where he is right now?"

"I'm waiting for more information --" as his phone buzzed. "Anthea? Have you find anything?"  The discussion went on for few minutes while John and Greg waited in silence. John was looking at Mycroft, trying to analyze him as Sherlock would. To determine if he had indeed had something to do with this, but it was hard!  _Mycroft is a master at disguising his emotions, except for the permanent smugness of course, so I can't read him. I don't even think Sherlock can do it."_  Ever if since the events of Sherrinford and his return to Baker Street, his meetings with the man were more frequent and less stressful than before.  In fact, Rosie often talked about him as Uncle Myc!  _Uncle Myc, I can't believe it... And brother-in-law if I have a word to say on the matter! But first, Sherlock! We need to find him!_  His line of thoughts was derailed by Greg.

"So? Have they found something?" The DI inquires anxiously.

Closing his eyes as he tries to figure out what's happening, Mycroft replied, "the CCTV footage shows that he had been abducted from the alley behind the bar." 

"Oh my God!" For John, it was the worst possible news, the proof that Sherlock is really in danger! 

"But it's not something that has happened before - the case was never about kidnapping!" Greg asked, completely puzzled. "Is there something that wasn't in the file?"

"No, it was as I told you... I don't understand what's going on." Mycroft admitted reluctantly.

 

 

Already exhausted by the last few sleepless nights, Sherlock patience was running short.  _I'm getting old, damn, and this is not helping._  "Anderson. Explain this all to me right now and choose your words wisely." Looking around him he spotted a second chair. "Take a seat."

"Oh, sorry... Your neck!" Anderson ran over to the chair muttering to himself "of course, even if we have only a difference of few centimetres between us it's probably unusual to have to look upon someone when speaking and --". 

"Anderson!" 

Philip quickly sits in front of Sherlock, but a good meter away. "Okay. I understand you've got questions."

"Yes... First of all," The detective took a deep breath, then his patience finally gives out. "Are you suicidal?"

"No! Of course not! It's all good Mister Holmes, I really don't want to harm you!"  he laughs nervously, "... you are going to tell that to that brother of yours, right?"

Not acknowledging anything, Sherlock continues, "what I am doing here?"

"It's a way of redeeming my --"

"Yes, you said that already. Care to elaborate? From the beginning. Got the feeling it's going to be... interesting." 

"Oh yes!" Anderson exclaims not hearing the sarcasm in Sherlock's tone. "It is, really interesting Mister Holmes!" Shyly, he asks, "... can I call you Sherlock?"

The little sympathy the detective had for Anderson following their meeting after his return was dissipating quickly. "Holmes is fine."

"I understand, I have to get back your trust..." Rolling his eyes -  _as if he ever had his trust!_  Sherlock waits for the rest without a word. "You know about The Empty Hearse, the website and group of --"

"Fans." Sherlock spits out, coldly. It's not that he did not appreciate the help that some of them can give at times, it's like having a whole new set of irregulars, it just that the idea of people meeting to talk about him was just weird.

Anderson's cheeks redden. "Yes... hum...  _fans_. So, I have been contacted by an interested party that wanted to help." 

"Help who?"

"You, of course." The ex-ME smiles as if he was talking to a reluctant child "This is what all this is about, helping you Sherl... Mister Holmes!"

"So far, it is as inadequate as your Jack the Ripper stunt..."  Sherlock mutters before adding "And... the interested party?"

"Yes, someone who thought that my dedication to show how talented you are and how badly you've been treated by the Met in the Moriarty affair..."

"By the Met?" Sherlock laughs, "it's not like Donovan and you weren't easy to --"

"Mister Holmes, I'm trying to make amends for the errors of my past!"

Sherlock was still discreetly trying to get his hands free."By catching me in a trap created by an unknown criminal?"  _I don't know where he got the handcuffs from, but they are of good quality!_

"It's not like that," Anderson said, shaking his head in dismay before repeating, "it's all good... nothing bad is going to happen!"

"This is ridiculous, I was ready to give you a chance, but you are still an idiot." Philip was looking devastated by Sherlock words "If I am understanding you so far, an unknown person contacted you and asked you to kidnap me? Of all the stupid things --"

"Oh please, don't talk like this is the worst I have done!" the man tries to joke. "I remember that day when I thought that Rache was a clue that the woman in pink was German!"

"I've got enough of this trip down memory lane. We are ending this NOW. Uncuff my hands and call it a night."  _And maybe I won't send John after you! I have the feeling he won't be pleased!_

"I can't do that!" he protests, wringing his hands nervously.

Not liking the signs he was able to read in the man's behaviour, Sherlock asks sternly "Why?"

"I... I don't have the key, Mister Holmes!"

"Absolutely perfect..." Sherlock drawls, "and I assume you don't have my phone either?"

"Oh yes, it's here with me. Do you want me to turn it on?"

"YES"  _with the tracker on my phone, they are going to be able to find me!_  Once the phone finally reboots, the repetitive pings of the many missed texts and messages are heard.

And, a few seconds after the last ping, a well-known sound echoes in the room... _Oh God, of course.._. Sherlock groans to himself while a ridiculously blushing Anderson protests vehemently. 

"It wasn't me, Mister Holmes! It's coming from your phone!"

Rolling his eyes at the prudish man,  _And to say that he used to cheat on his wife constantly!_ Sherlock replies calmly, "I know, Anderson, it means that I have a text."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, time for the Dominatrix Fairy! (I didn't put everyone in the tags... because you know. Spoilers!)


	20. I hope you have a speech prepared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg, John and Mycroft are on their way to save Sherlock!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Running a little late... Sorry!

"He's in a grand estate, Anthea sent the coordinate to the chauffeur. It's less than 100 kilometres away." Mycroft explains after he put down his phone. "She told me that it appears to be only one man, no sign of real activity at the domain."  _I don't understand, what the goal of all this?_

_100 kilometres, still the Met jurisdiction then_. "Okay... so I'm contacting my team," Lestrade said, taking his phone.

"Wait a moment, Inspector, do we really need more people to be involved in this? My own men are going to be near, ready to intervene if needed." After a pause, he continues "This situation is odd. I really prefer to keep everything as... let say... as private as possible."

"But --" Greg protests.

"Maybe one more person," Holmes concedes, "do you have someone that you trust above everything?"

"Yes, drive back toward the Yard, please." Holding his phone to his ear, he waits while the car turns to rush back to the centre of London. "Donovan? I need you for a reconnaissance mission of a sort... it's kind of a special project, yes... be down in front in 10 minutes."

John and Mycroft were looking a bit disgusted, _probably for the same reason_ Greg sighs... The doctor was the only one to talk out loud about the elephant in the car... "Donovan? Really, Greg? She loathes Sherlock!" as Greg is going to argue, John raises his hands to stop him. "Yeah, I know... She's being nicer to him since... in the last years. But I'm sure that she still hates him as she did before. She's only learned how to hide it better!"

Fed-up of the childish feud, Greg tiredly passes his hand through his hair. "John! I wouldn't ask her if --"

"We are here," Mycroft announces as the car comes to a stop.

Getting out of the black sedan, Greg motions a surprised Sally to get in the car. "What is it Greg? Oh... Doctor Watson, Mister Holmes."

Before turning away to look at his phone, Mycroft's "Sergeant Donovan" was his only acknowledgement to the presence of the woman in the car.

_It's going to be a pleasant ride,_ Greg sighs silently to himself.

 

Near the deserted manor - it's the property of a family that is abroad for a month, as Mycroft explained previously - the only sign that something was going on was the sign of fresh marks in the traditional gravel driveway. Holmes, looking at a drone's view of the domain point out the possibilities. "The car didn't stop at the house, but run to the end of the driveway. That gives us two places where they could be. The stable, which includes a little apartment that was living quarters for the staff back then, or a little cottage at the edge of the property. Probably an old hunting lodge that has been transformed into a little country house for visiting friends. So, we should separate into two groups." Turning to his chauffeur, he addresses his concern right away. "Simpson, you know that you can't make me stay in the car and I know you won't let me go without you so --"

"I'll go with Doctor Watson," Donovan suggests. "Greg can go with you two, knowing him he won't like the idea of you rummaging around without the company of a Met officer. We can take the cottage, smaller area to check."

Greg nods. "Okay, let's do this." 

After a last check of the map of the grounds, they separate and walk off to their assigned locations.

 

John's mind was restless as he follows Sally Donovan.  _What's going on? It doesn't make sense! It's as if that case was only a pretext to have him at the right place at the right moment!_ Watching the back of the police officer, it was surreal for the doctor to consider that he was working with Donovan to find and free Sherlock. Both remaining silent, they finally arrived at the little cabin. It was like Mycroft said, an old quaint cottage that used to be a retreat from the bad weather when a group was out in the woods for the day. Clearly dating from the 18th century, it has been recently modernized and fitted with solar panels and good double-glazed windows. In the dark of the night, a light glow was coming from the house. Donavan hunched down, motioning John to do the same and stay close to her for the last metres. They moved in silence together.

After a few minutes, they arrived close enough to listen for any voices. Everything was silent in the cottage, but through a little window, John saw Sherlock. He seemed to be unharmed but was clearly cuffed attached to a chair.  _Thank God, he's okay..._  The fear that had been in John's heart since the news of his disappearance or - if he were honest - since that stupid argument disappears as his hope rises. Motioning to Donovan that Sherlock was in the cabin, she nods. Walking around the wall, they arrive at the door quickly.

"What are we doing now?" John articulates silently, looking around for any cameras or accomplices but seeing nothing. 

"We can wait for Greg... but right now, the risk is probably minimal."

"And... you are willing to risk this for Sherlock?" The doctor frowns, even if he knew it wasn't the right time to antagonise the woman.

"John, give me some credit, please! Please don't judge me on actions from nearly ten years ago..." Even in her barely audible tone, the softness in her voice rang true,  John, admitted to himself. "So, are you ready to go in, Watson?"  

The doctor, who was already totally focussed on the chase, turns into a soldier in the blink of an eye. "Yes, shoot the lock, I will be ready behind you."

The detective positioned herself right beside John, gun in hand as if she was going to blow up the lock but, but instead - without giving John the time to react - she opens the door that Anderson left unlocked, and pushes the unprepared doctor inside hard enough for him to fall on the floor. 

Still outside, Donovan mutters smugly, “I hope you have a speech prepared,” before bolting the door from the outside with the key she had in her coat pocket. "Good luck, guys."  Pulling out her cell phone, she sends a text to Greg before leaving the cottage.

> _Holmes was alone in the cabin. Everything is ok, we are walking back to the car._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, another fairy! You didn't think Anderson was able to do something alone, did you?


	21. Impressive, truly

Donovan was walking back to the black sedan when Anderson appears at her side suddenly. "Everything went okay?" he asks giddily.

"Yes, as we planned!" They remain silent a bit before the detective inquires, "What did you say to Sherlock? Is he aware of what's going on yet?"

"Not really, I just told him that is was all good, to stay calm and that he won't be alone for long." He was smiling, proud of the little game they played on the Holmes' brothers. "I can't believe we've been able to do something like this to two of the wisest men of the country!"

"What I can't believe is how you could come up with such a plan on your own. It's impressive, truly," Donovan says in wonder, not used to Philip being a genius mastermind.

"Let me send a text and I'm going to explain everything..." he types a bit on his phone "Good. Right. I can say it now... I wasn't alone!" He smiles proudly "A secret admirer of my work helped me, I just confirmed to him or her that's they are both in the cabin right now. All alone!"

Suddenly stopping, the woman roars "WHAT?" Sally's heart stops!  _No! I was scheming with Anderson to help these two idiots and redeem myself, but instead I've set them up in a trap._

"Yes... I have been contacted --" but he didn't have the chance to finish as Sally starts running in the direction of the other three.

"Greg! Greg!" She was panting a bit. "It's a trap!"

"What are you talking about?" Mycroft asks, looking behind Sally for Sherlock and John. "A trap?" 

"Anderson? What the hell are you doing here?" Greg demands as Philip walks out of the woods while Donovan quickly explains their little plan and the news that they have been manipulated by an unknown third party.  They were on the brink of rushing back to the cabin, without waiting for any explanation Anderson may give or not, when Mycroft's phone pings. Looking it up quickly, the serious man smiles as soon as his eyes fall on the text and his worries vanished. 

> _Don't worry about them, Mister Holmes, lets say that I found an inventive way to pay an overdue debt to your brother. Tell him many thanks for Karachi and that we are even now._

Clearing his throat to cover a little laugh, he turns and opens the door of the Sedan while his chauffeur - following his boss without question - sits in his seat and starts the car. "Everything is under control, you don't have to worry about them." Turning to Anderson, he frowns."I guess you have a car somewhere?"

"Yes, Sir, yes... it's behind the cottage." Philip mumbles, confused about everything.

"Oh... that's unfortunate." Mycroft sighs, "come with us, we are going back to London." _I want nobody near that cottage for at least 48 hours!_

"But Mister Holmes! Mycroft!" Greg protests, motioning toward the path that leads to the cabin. "John and Sherlock --"

"Have everything that they need right now..." Holmes chuckles as the DI suddenly understands what has transpired.

"Oh... OOOOOH... yes, you're right. Anderson, Donovan, in the car now."  _Got the feeling that they have a lot to tell us!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small one, but I'm trying to get back on the Fictober daily schedule!


	22. I know how you love to play games

_A few moments before..._  

Anderson was holding the phone, unsure of what to do while Sherlock's was staring at him. "Show me the  _bloody_ text." The man, finally shaking from the stupefied state he was since the moaning/ringtone, extends his arm to place the phone close enough for Sherlock to read.

> I know how you love to play games, this is the first step. 
> 
> More instructions are going to follow later... 
> 
> Go with the flow darling it's all good and, later on, let's have dinner so you can tell me all the juicy details... x

 _Okay, so it's 'only' Irene... I don't understand what's going on, the case... was it real? Or not?_ "Anderson, the case? What about the case?"

"In the club? It was all fake. My contact told me enough data to make it look real..." Looking at the message and thinking about the scandalous ringtone, he asks sheepishly "Is it the same person that contacted you, you think?"

Defeated and a bit angry against himself, the detective murmurs "Yes, it's the same..." 

"So you know who it is? If it's a friend, you don't have to worry..."

Muttering under his breath, Sherlock wasn't quite so sure. "Friends with good intentions are generally the worst."

"Oh! Don't say that, you are so lucky to have such a good friend! And Greg, Molly..." wagging his eyebrows he adds with a wink "Doctor Watson." 

"Why did your face do that? Are you having a seizure?"  The detective deadpans at Anderson feeble attempt at complicity.

"You know what I am talking about! It is more than obvious that you have feelings for Watson. I am not that clueless..." before Sherlock was able to protest, the ping of Anderson's phone resonates in the small room. "Oh! This is what I was waiting for... Everything is going perfectly!"

Sherlock was trying to read what was on the small screen without being able "What is it? Anderson! Tell me!"

"It's a surprise, Mister Holmes, I can't tell you! Don't want to spoiled everything." Rising from his chair, he walks to the table to get his coat. "This is where our path diverges, Mister Holmes. Thank you for your cooperation and I hope that, from now on, you will see me in a more favourable light, that you could even consider me a friend of some sort!" Nodding a last farewell to a speechless Sherlock, Anderson turns and walks out of the cottage. Leaving the detective all alone.

"ANDERSON! COME BACK HERE! NOW!"  _Oh my God, I am pleading for that idiot to come back, I must get a grip now! Think!_  His cell phone clock, when he  had read Irene Adler texts, indicated it was a little after 4 in the morning. The light of a small lamp was fighting the night inside the cozy cabin, but it was still dark outside.  _My phone! The tracker! They must know where I am right now, no? It's less perfect in a country setting, but it's something..._ Closing his eyes, he tries to figure what's going to happen next. 

He was lost in his thought when he heard a small noise coming from outside.  _Voice. No voices. A man and a woman... But they are murmuring, I don't know who it is! I must do research someday about the difference in style and pitch of a voice when the subject murmurs or screams_  --  The door opens abruptly, shifting his thought to the action in front of him.  _John!_ Looking quickly at the woman who pushes the doctor on the floor, he realizes that it's Donovan.  _What's happening?_ He was about to scream for John to run when the door closes as quickly as it opened, leaving his friend behind. "John, are you all right?"

Brushing the dirt from his trouser, John gets up slowly. "Yes, yes... Except that I have another evidence that I am no longer a young man..." getting back to the door, he tries to open the door without success. "It's bolted from the outside. What the hell..."

"My feelings exactly..."   _But everything going to be okay now, John is here. Is it crazy for me to think that? He shouldn't be here, but at home with Rosie. I may be able to open the door?_ "John, I don't want to push you or anything, but could you please look for the key to the handcuffs? My arms are really killing me right now." 

Leaving the doorway, John moves towards Sherlock at last. And freezes.  _Could someone give me a break!_   His friend looked as if he were ready for a ravishing... His dark curls, now with silver streaks, were a mess. _He looks like he was just getting out of bed after... after a rough night. Where did he got that pair of jeans, I've never seen them before, they are so so tight... Fuck, I mustn't look at his... Oh no, I did. It looks perfect, like every centimetre of his body._ His breath was slowly becoming laboured, at the sight in front of him.  _I'm so screwed. And that damn old purple shirt! It's already fucking sexy, but like that... unbuttoned lower than usual. Shit. I am in trouble. He looks delicious._

Troubled by the blatant desire in his friend's eyes, the detective reluctantly breaks the moment. "John? Why don't you look for the key? Or at least say something?"

 _He must be mine, and mine alone._ "William Sherlock Scott Holmes! Did you leave the flat dressed like that to get the attention of a bloody criminal? Are you fucking insane?"


	23. This is not new, it only feels like it.

John was now standing in front of Sherlock, hovering over him actually, wanting to kiss the man so badly!  _Not now Watson, first things first._  After a deep breath, he asks with a voice full of concern, "are you all right? Did they harm you?"

"No... Kind of fed up to be stuck in the same position, though." He stretches his neck and shoulders as far he could while being restrained. "And my hands are getting restless and I hate to repeat my self... but could you please look if the key is somewhere?"

"Oh right your hands..." Softly, John places a finger between the handcuff and Sherlock's wrist.  _Good, they are not too tight._ Remaining motionless, except the light caress of his finger, he was fighting against the will of getting closer, of taking the opportunity of Sherlock's position - his legs relaxed and opened - to step closer until he was touching the man with his full body.  _ _Not now, we need to talk first._  _"I am going to put something around your wrists to protect them while I'm looking for the key or something to get you out of this."  Psychologically and physically pushing himself away, he starts searching the room for a clean towel or something to protect his friend tender skin from the manacles. "Ah! Here we go..." rushing back to Sherlock with two tea towels, he delicately wraps the cloth under each metal circle. "Better?"

"Yes, thanks, John..." Anderson words were running in his head relentlessly.  _It is more than obvious that you have feelings for Watson._ And Irene's mocking tone in her text _you can tell me all the juicy details..._ It wasn't the first time the dominatrix had tried to push him to declare his feelings to John, but it was the first where she was taking things in her own _firm_ hands.  _She's right about something, he clearly desires me. I know the signs._  Following John rummaging the room at the search of the key, his heart warmed at the idea of the possibility that what everyone was saying was the truth. That John, his best friend, his partner in everything else, was not only attracted to him, but in love with him.  _Could it be that we are just too obtuse to realize what is in front of us? No... Not really. John had to make his peace with a lot of things... It was a long process, but it's all right, time with Rosie and him can't be considered as wasted._

"Sherlock, I can't find anything! The cottage is pretty clean, I've looked in the cupboard, on the countertop, the tables, in the small bathroom, and" the pitch of John's voice changes as he adds, "the bedroom..." 

Thinking about Irene's text, the detective sighs.  _What did she say? More instructions to follow later, go with the flow..._ with a smile that instantly breeds an entire colony of butterflies in the doctor's stomach, he resiliently points towards the fridge. "Have you checked if they left us some food? I am a bit peckish."

"Yes! I didn't check inside of it... who knows, maybe the key is hidden in a bowl of grapes!" Happy to have something to do to help the man he loves, _oh my God, I love him! I want to scream it at the top of my lungs! It's strange, this is not new, it only feels like it now that I am finally accepting it!_ John opens the fridge and whistles in appreciation. "They don't want us to starve! Wine, cheeses, chopped salad with dressing, chocolate mousse... It's a real feast!" Setting everything on the countertop, John saw a little envelope scotched on one of the appliance's shelf. "What's that? Oh! Great!" Turning with a relieved grin, he shows the contents of the envelope to Sherlock. "The key! And a little note." Clearing his voice, John read out loud the handwritten note " _This is going to be easier like that darlings_. Hum, okay... That's weird." Closing the fridge door with a push of his foot he places the extra chair near his friend and tries the key without success. "Shit! I don't understand."

"Nice attention to detail... I have to give her that." Sherlock shakes his head, "it's for the left hand, John."

"Who were you talking about when you said, 'give her that'?" John mutters, pushing the key on the left-hand side. To his surprise, the cuffs open easily. "How did you know that?"

Sherlock was finally able to stretch his fingers and rotate his wrist with satisfaction. "Easy, I'm left-handed. And I need my left hand to eat." 

"And... 'her'?"

"Irene Adler, of course. Let's eat now."

Rising silently to get the food ready, he was going to put everything in small morsels so Sherlock could eat with only one hand, John's mind wasn't able to stop thinking about The Woman.  _So she's still alive... But why? Why is she doing this?_ Not knowing how to ask his friend about the beautiful women, _to think that I once urged him to call the bloody woman! To have an affair or something serious with her!_ He plays it safe by sticking with the facts he is aware of.  _"_ What was Donovan's part in the plan? Is the case even real?" 

"I presume that Donovan worked in concert with Anderson," Sherlock replies, munching on his vegetables. "The case was fake. A great fake, but a lie anyhow."

John's fork stops in mid-air. "Anderson?"

"Yes, he's the one who abducted me... I still can't believe it. Anderson able to outplay me." Frowning at the memory, the detective stops eating.

"I think you'll live, genius man..." John jokes. "Eat!"

"Tell me everything that happened up until Donovan pushed you into the cabin..." he playfully dropped a baby carrot into his mouth, then winked at John. "And I will eat... everything you want!" 

_Oh my God, flirting, are we actually flirting?_ They both thought at the same time.


	24. You know this, you know this to be true.

As dawn was approaching, they were still slowly eating, sharing the bowl of chocolate mousse. Silently talking with the weight of their slow movements, the voice of their hooded eyes, the warmth of their breaths...  _I want to kiss you. I want to lick the chocolate from your lips. I want to unbutton the rest of that shirt. I want you to love me, for real. I want you to love me in spite of my flaws, to love Rosie as if she were your daughter. I want you! I want you!..._ John, who was still trying so hard to resist, rises from his chair to place the dishes in the sink when the deep voice of his friend resonates in the little cabin. 

"Don't do the dishes, I don't think they deserve it!" His tone was lightly mocking, he knew that the ex-soldier didn't like it when the dishes remained undone.

Turning from the sink, John casually leans against the counter top, eyeing the bottle of wine. The dishes were forgotten. The emotions, the need, was draining them... he knew that it wasn't a good decision but he suggests it anyway, "glass of wine, then? To add to the mess were are going to leave for them?" Sherlock eyed him, lips slightly opened, but remaining silent.

He was about to say forget it when the detective murmurs. "Yes... Poor us some wine John."  Hypnotised by the feeling of attentive eyes following his every move, the doctor searches through the kitchen drawers for a bottle opener. Luckily, he quickly finds a fancy sommelier's kit, opens the little box and starts laughing.  

"What's so funny? Don't tell me you've got a little envelope..."

Shaking the tiny key with a smile, John puts it carefully on the counter while he uncorks the red wine and pours two generous glasses. "She only wrote, ' _Have fun boys, don't do things I wouldn't do_...'" Seductively placing the key between his teeth, he walks back to Sherlock slowly, a glass in each hand and mutters "If we follow her orders, the range of things that we could do is still impressive..." The detective, as enthralled as his friend, eagerly uses one of his feet to push the second chair far away with a cheeky grin. John chuckes softly "lanky git... where am I going to sit now?" Straddling his friend's right thigh, he gently pushes a glass into his left hand muttering "Take this, would you..." before he takes back the key with his now free hand. "I'm going to open the other handcuffs, ready?"

"For everything. As I would ever be..." Sherlock pronounces clearly, his eyes fixed on John's while he drinks from his glass. 

Forgetting his mission, the blond man places the glasses on the floor, before giving in, ghosting his lips on the detective's jaw... murmuring with difficulty "Is this okay... Do you... Please... Can I..." 

His friend only reply was to moan as his head falls to give more room to John's ministrations.

"Are you sure?"

_God! Is'nt it obvious!_  "Yes, a thousand time yes... You know... you know this to be true."

"Yes, I know love..." Pressing his lips to Sherlock's, he was tasting the wine, the chocolate... The kissing grew heated, John's position allowing him to sensually grind against his friend's body, he realised he was feeling alive for the first time in years. _Oh my God, we are kissing!_ The room was echoing with moans and indistinct promises, of small protestations about how they should talk, of the too long path they took to finally be there, everything finally working out for them, the joy of having the right to touch the other... until something finally reaches the doctor despite his state.

"John... John... Please..."

Not stopping his lavish attention, he starts peppering little kisses over Sherlock's face, his hands holding him like the most precious treasure. "Yes, love?"

"I would really like to have two hands now." Turning his head, he speaks softly in his he hopes soon-to-be-lover's ear, "don't worry, we're going to have time to play with handcuffs later, I promise..." 

"Oh... sorry..." Kissing each finger to apologize, he quickly unlocks the right hand of his lover. Sherlock, keeping John as near as possible, rises while stretching his back and arms... I _often stay still for hours, but it's not like being on Baker Street sofa!_ Using both hands, he presses John tightly against him, before kissing him thoroughly, leaving them both breathless. Quickly bending down, he picks up the glasses and the remaining wine and, laughing like a teenager, signals John to follow him to the bedroom. 

_Oh yes... the range of things that we could do is impressive!_


	25. Go forward, do not stray

Harry was asleep in John's chair when a ding wakes her up. Reacting quickly - she was sleeping lightly, worrying about her brother and a bit for the man he had foolishly fell in love with - she extends her hand to check it. It was a text from an unknown number. _Who the Hell?_

 

> Don't worry about your brother Ms. Watson. He's in good hands. MH
> 
> Who the hell are you? How I am supposed to believe anything that's coming from an unknown number?
> 
> I am an interested party. MH
> 
> MH? Oh you are that posh cold bastard of a brother? Mycroft?
> 
> You can call me Mr. Holmes MH
> 
> What's going on? A third party decided that it was time for them to talk. MH
> 
> To talk? Really, Myc! To shag!
> 
> No need to be crude, Ms. Watson. MH
> 
> I hope you brother is finally getting his shit together! Johnny has been in love with him for nearly a fucking decade!
> 
> YOUR brother kept dating women, I think it was only normal for MY brother to keep his feeling for him under wraps. MH
> 
> He faked his suicide! In front of him!!!!
> 
> He married a woman and asked Sherlock to be his best-man. MH
> 
> Okay, yes, that was a shitty move. I give you that.
> 
> And you don't know half of it, so if you could refrain yourself from sharing your unwelcome opinions. MH
> 
> He's not a bloody angel either! I hope he realizes how lucky he is to have John's love.
> 
> And we all hope that your brother will remain in control over his violent temper. MH
> 
> Don't even go there you bastard! He feels so guilty all the time even if Sherlock forgives him over and over! Cheap shot, really.
> 
> It's just that, it would break my brother's heart if I had to send Doctor Watson... away. MH
> 
> FUCK YOU
> 
> Why am I suddenly worrying about the idea that you are around Miss Rosamund? MH
> 
> Don't you dare say something about that little girl! Or against my presence around her! And it's Rosie, not that crazy granny's name!
> 
> Thank God she won't be raise as a fearful ninny or around her crazy AF mother! 
> 
> I must admit you have a point there MH
> 
> And I am a good influence over her, I haven't touch a bottle in a year, I am a great lawyer, I am married... 
> 
> I know. MH 
> 
> I've got a proposition for you. MH 
> 
> Johnny talked to me about your kind of proposition... I won't spy on them for you. If you want news, invite them for tea.
> 
> I understand your position but please at least let me know if something is wrong that I don't know of. Regarding any of them. MH 
> 
> I will, I am not stupid, I know that you're the man to call if something weird happens. And with these two, it's bound to. 
> 
> We understand each other then. MH
> 
> And, if I am honest, I would like to thank you for helping my brother since he's in your brother's life.
> 
> I really don't know what you are talking about. MH
> 
> But, thank you nonetheless. MH
> 
> And DI Lestrade thanks you for keeping an eye on Dr. Hooper. They are somewhat of an item, so it was a big weight off his chest to know that she was in good hands. MH
> 
> You play cold and everything, but I know you are a softy for a good romance Myc'. 
> 
> I think it's time to close this conversation. MH
> 
> I've got the proof, in black and white! You are a romantic! 
> 
> Please take care of Rosamund for the next 24 hours or so, I've cleared your working schedule. MH
> 
> What! How? 
> 
> Let say, I know someone that knows things. MH
> 
> You are my new best-friend! Clara and I are planning an holiday in Prague but it's impossible to get 2 weeks free in a row, can you do something about this?
> 
> Good day, Ms Watson. MH
> 
> lol good day, Myc'

Smiling, Harry was re-reading the whole exchange when her phone suddenly shut down.  _Shit!_ Opening the text application as soon as the reboot was complete, she realizes - without surprise and with some admiration - that the conversation wasn't on her phone anymore.  _Johnny's going to have one hell of a brother-in-law!_

 

She was walking into the kitchen to start something for breakfast when her niece jumps on her back laughing merrily! "Auntie Harry! You are here!!!" Placing a big kiss on her cheek she asks hopefully, "can we make pancakes?" Her enthusiasm peaked when Molly rises from the sofa, rubbing her still sleepy eyes. "Auntie Molllllllllllllllllllllllllly, we are doing pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes!"

"Rosie... don't scream, darling... I've got a big headache." sitting at the kitchen table, she frowns at the woman in front of her. "Uh... Hi Harry. Sorry, but what are you doing here?"

Harry kisses Rosie's head before giving her a five pound note, "Darling, could you please go to Speedy get two coffees? Be really careful not to burn yourself. Go on, do not stray or wake Ms. Hudson, it's still early. I'm going to start on the pancakes."

Shouting a big "Yes!" The little girl runs out of the flat and down the steps, still in her pajama while Molly moans, head on her arms.  _I will never drink again. Greg must think I'm an idiot..._

Smiling, John's sister sits near the pathologist. They aren't exactly friends, but they know each other enough to allow a bit of teasing. "Soooooooooo, Lestrade?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked to write that exchange between Mycroft and Harry :-) Hope you enjoyed it!


	26. But if you cannot see it, is it really there?

Once in the bedroom, Sherlock's bravado quickly disappeared. "John... I... I..." putting the wine on the bedside table, he sits at the edge of the bed and sighs. The last hours, with the flirting, the kissing, drinking wine at what, 6 in the morning?, was surreal enough and hard to grasp for his rational mind. "I don't know what to do... what do you want? What is expected from me, of, us?... What... I... want... it's... I can't -- " 

John softly stops his rambling thoughts with a kiss. "Shhh. Love. Don't worry about anything. We are going to do only what we both want. Since when have we ever cared about what others want, or expect us to do?" He laughs, thinking about his life over the last years. "I've been living with my best friend who has been helping raise my daughter for years... I really don't give a fuck about what others may think of me, of us, my love."  

_Love, how could he so easily just call me love..._  Holding the doctor near him by his waist, the detective presses his head upon his chest and murmurs "But, do you really think we are able to do that..."

"What? Have sex? I think I remember how it's supposed to work... even if it's been years." Unable to restrain himself, his hands were stroking Sherlock's thighs over the tight black jeans. "Never really did more than kissing and heavy petting with a bloke, but I have the same bits as you and I am a doctor, so we should be okay." John jokes, trying to relax the trembling man before gasping at the mass of curls that caress him through his shirt as Sherlock shakes his head from side to side.  _God give me patience._

"No... not the sex... sex is easy...transport..." holding him a bit nearer, even if it seems impossible as they are already so close, the detective murmurs shyly, his cheek pressing against John's belly "It's the feelings. Do you think we,  **I** , will be able to do the... feelings part?"

Arching his back a bit, John takes the genius head in his hands, carefully angling the strangely perfect face. The mesmerizing eyes in front of him were full of mixed emotions. Fear, doubt, panic... But also love, desire, trust. "Beautiful, beautiful man, don't ever doubt your ability to care, my love. You are one of the most caring and loving human beings that I've ever known." He knew that Sherlock was fighting against closing his eyes, of shutting down... _They are idiots. It's not that he's never had emotions, it's that he's always felt them too much! Poor darling._ "Sherlock, look at me..." he kisses him on the forehead, humming calmly. "If you want any proof that you are able to love and care and deserve to be loved as well, look around you! Even Donovan and Anderson wanted to help you! Think about Rosie. You love her so much, it warms my heart just to look at you when you interact with her.  And that wonderful, intelligent, innocent and caring child loves you so much as well." Letting go of the detective's face, his arms engulf the man in a tight embrace, taking the advantage of being taller than him for once. "Think about Ms. Hudson, you love that woman so much that you nearly killed a bloody FBI agent because he foolishly attacked her. Yes, she likes me enough, but that precious woman loves you like the child she never had. Having the love and devotion of such a wonderful woman is further proof that you deserve it." Peppering lazy kisses on the luscious curls as he speaks, John felt that he was the luckiest and happiest man in the world. "She knows you so well, she's able to see the real you behind everything... And I won't even talk about Molly, and Greg! Even your damn brother who loves you so much that it's certainly one of the few things that keep his heart running." 

Pressing his hands to his best friend's back, the doctor felt the crisscross patterns of the dozens of scars that were still present after years of care. 

"Don't..." Sherlock pleads, "John - please, they are ugly."

"They are a part of you, how could they be something other than dear to me, silly man." 

A bit tired of standing on the same spot, John slowly pushes the detective onto the bed, still holding him somehow, and presses the length of his smaller body against the other man's side. It was natural, easy...  _As if we had done so hundreds of times before_. Quietly,  the doctor brushes Sherlock's arms with the tip of his fingers, sending thousand of sparks to the other man's heart. "You know when you showed them to me... Oh my God, it's been years but I remember as if it were yesterday!" After shushing and kissing his friend who was protesting against that subject of discussion, John continues, quietly "I won't talk about this again, we already talked about this many times and I think that working with you to help you minimize the scars and the pain they were still causing helped us a lot... don't you think? But just one thing, one last thing... Don't you see? This is another proof, the ultimate proof." His hands wrap around the still lithe torso and his fingers spread once more over the shredded back, he murmurs to the man of his dreams, a secret for their ears only. "the scars are proof that you are willing to do everything to protect the ones you love from harm." He pauses, letting the detective absorb what he just said. "the fact that you remained silent about it for years, even if it would have been so easy to just shove them in my face to stop my anger and resentment against you, it is proof that you were willing to deal with my bad temper instead of making me feel guilty..."  _I'm so sorry my love, I've been so foolish_ _..._  "Finally, that you still do not want Greg or Ms. Hudson to know about it because you don't want them to feel horrible about what you suffered on their behalf..." His lips drop on Sherlock's mouth for a deep kiss. "That, my dear dear love, is the strongest evidence, if any was needed, that you are able of feeling the purest of sentiments."

_Maybe it's only my vanity, maybe it's only the fear of being called a failure? Maybe it's only my fear of being all alone again?_ "I'm... I'm unable to... see... to see all this." 

"And you're asking yourself _if I cannot see it, is it really there? Inside of me_... Yes, a thousand times, yes!"

Turning onto his back, so he could hold Sherlock closely in his arms, John slowly hums a calming lullaby while his friend cried silently, as the dam of unshed tears finally broke. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was supposed to be 'jumping into bed and yada-yada-yada' but... yeah. Emotions.


	27. Remember, you have to remember...

They stayed like that for hours, having fallen asleep at some point. Fortunately, the curtains of the little bedroom were closed and they were undisturbed by the incoming daylight... 

It was around lunch time when John slowly awakens, feeling as rest as if he has slept a whole night. They moved a bit, but their position was nearly the same. Looking down at the curly mop of the still sleeping man that was spread on his torso, he smiles smugly.  _This is perfect, the first step of everything that's going to follow!_   Sherlock's upper body was starting to weigh a bit too much on him, but not enough for him to wish for anything to change. At some point, they had removed their shirts because of buttons that were pressing painfully into their skin so John was in a t-shirt while Sherlock upper body was bare. Looking at his friend's back, John revels in the trust the detective had in him to be able now to simply share himself, scars and all, without hesitation.  Turning his gaze upon his own scar, he realizes that somewhere in the last hours Sherlock's hand found a way under his t-shirt and was now covering the scar on his shoulder. Protectively.  _Sentimental git, and to think he's not certain of being able to do the 'feelings thing.' Right. Who could have known? Sherlock Holmes is a cuddler. On the other hand, it's not such a surprise, he has always been tactile._ He remembers with fondness the hundreds of times when the detective had asked him to fetch something in his pocket or how their fingers were touching nearly every time they passed something to one another...  _He always liked to pick up Rosie when she was little, he clearly enjoyed the way she patted him with her little hands._ He was on the verge of falling back asleep when he felt the heat of kaleidoscopic eyes on him. Adjusting his arm slightly to be able to hold on tighter to Sherlock, as if he was afraid that the man would disappear, he looks at the fluttering eyes. "Sleep well, love?" 

Not reacting to the endearment, _it was the 11th time John called him 'love' so it's no use protesting_ , the detective sighs, "yes, very well," before he (daringly? voluntarily?) shifts the leg that was over John's right side to embrace the man a bit more.

"... Sherlock." John stammers as his friend's thigh was nearly touching his cock, "I... I don't think it's a good idea right --"

Lifting his head until his mouth nearly touches the doctor's ear, he murmurs, "I think it's a wonderful idea..." just before his lips slide down upon the blond man's jaw.

_Oh. My. God._ John closes his eyes, trying to stop himself from moaning at the idea of doing something - anything! - with the Adonis he was in bed with _._   _Don't think my sanity is going to survive a sexually forward Sherlock. But sanity is kind of overrated..._ He realizes that he said that out loud when a warm chuckle resonates in his chest as the detective was pressing his mouth at the edge of the white cotton of John's t-shirt. His eyes open as he felt two hands pushing away that last layer.

"Nipples, John," Sherlock grumbles as he tries to yank the offensive garment from John without removing his hold on him. "How can I nibble on them if you have a t-shirt on." Panting lightly, frowning at the uncooperative piece of clothing, he was adorable. And sexy as Hell. 

Turning him quickly on his back, John promptly removed his shirt. "Satisfied?" The look of lust in his lover's eyes is the only response he needs. "But, I now have the upper hand..." Pressing Sherlock to the bed, he sensually licks a couple fingers before dragging them lightly over the right nipple, slowly torturing the sensible nub. Kissing his way to the left one, he murmurs "nibble, you said?" 

The detective's skin was now flush with arousal, his glorious mind officially shut down as all he was able to do was scream  _John!_ again and again. A particularly heavy wave of desire brought a moment's of awareness. Pushing back a bemused and fully turned on John, he effectively took the advantage, slotting their bodies together, his long limbs effectively covering the smaller ones. "Honey, remember... Ohhh.... you have to... remember that I am well versed in the theory of homosexual intercourse, even if a bit out of practice."  

Arching his back to maximize the contact, the doctor didn't protest the loss of what someone stupid could call the upper hand. "Fuck it's sexy when you talk like that! And 'honey', I know how you love the thing, so it's a great honour, love..." Taking the opportunity of the new angle, he grinds his pelvis against Sherlock's cock, smirking as a gasp escapes the cupid's bow lips. "Do... you... like... this... love" each word separated by a roll of his hips. 

"Arghhhh... Jawn..." Unable to talk anymore (again!), Sherlock's head fell in the crook of John's shoulder, unable to move, to think.  _Oh, I'm supposed to participate... I can't... I can't just... Ohhhhh... I need..._ extending one arm past the edge of the bed, he tries to open the bedside table drawer.  _Oh, for the love of..._ he was losing patience when he finally grabs the bottle of lube he knew was going to be there - Irene is a practical woman after all - when his fingers felt something else and he starts laughing, unable to stop. 

John frowns, turning in the direction of Sherlock's gaze until his eyes fall on the bottle that was now on the bed.  _Okay, lube, that's good and not especially funny. I wonder if the woman left anything else or..._ "Love, I don't want to be difficult but what --" he stops and starts to laugh as well when he saw what the detective was holding in his long violinist's fingers.  _The key, the bloody key to the cottage._ Sliding swiftly from below the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with, he snaps the key out of his hand and throws it in a dark corner of the room then quickly presses his lips against Sherlock's mouth before he could voice a protest.

Which the brunet wasn't planning to do... as the only thing he wants was to stay in their little bit of heaven for as long as John wanted. 


	28. I felt it... You know what I mean.

"Auntie Harry, where are Daddy and Sherlock?" Her chocolate milk and pancakes now distant memories, Rosie was able to focus on her little project. "Are they still sad?"

Sitting behind the little girl, Molly brushes her hair soothingly. "Don't worry, darling, they are fine..."

"More than fine, I hope," Harry mumbles with a smirk as the pathologist silently shushes her. "Yes, yes, I know... _Child_. Sorry." Smiling approvingly at her niece, the woman replies in a more child-friendly manner, "they are okay, sweet, they are together and they are spending some nice time alone... talking." Her slight hesitation on the last word (it was hard to say without laughing!) was lost on the little girl.

"Really? Yes!! It worked then!" She was bouncing in her chair, escaping Molly's attempt to do something with her blonde curls. "I'm so happy that I'm going to have a papa as well as my daddy! And daddy's going to be so happy all the time!! It worked! It worked!"

"What worked, sweetie pie?" Harry asks, nonplussed.

Proudly, Rosie declares with her chin up high "Nana's and my plan for daddy and Sherlock of course! I want them to sleep in the same room as real parents!!" 

Rising from her chair, Molly opens the door of the flat and - not caring a fig about her hangover - runs to get Ms. Hudson while Harry mumbles something about making a fresh pot of tea.  _This is going to be good!_

 

 

_A few hours later, on the other side of town._

> I presume you know how... things are going? MH
> 
> _Of course, Mister Holmes. This little project is very dear to me._
> 
> So, what's the status now? MH
> 
>  
> 
>   _In the last hours, they ate, drank, talked..._
> 
>  
> 
> _The handcuffs have been removed._
> 
>  
> 
> _They are in the bedroom right now..._
> 
>  
> 
> I don't need more details. MH
> 
>  
> 
> _... Sleeping, Mister Holmes, just sleeping_
> 
>  
> 
> Good, good. So they talked and have probably come to an understanding as my brother didn't contact me for help.  Anyway, he's probably able to open that door without the key now that he has his two hands. MH
> 
>  
> 
> _Except if his hands are otherwise occupied, Mister Holmes..._
> 
>  
> 
> Stop this! MH
> 
>  
> 
> I only want him to be happy, don't need to know more. MH
> 
>  
> 
> _He's going to be happy and... satisfied, don't worry._
> 
>  
> 
> What's in it for you, Madam, if I may ask. MH
> 
>  
> 
> _I've told you, I'm repaying an old debt._
> 
>  
> 
> I don't believe you. MH
> 
>  
> 
> _Let say that, I've found someone myself._
> 
>  
> 
> So? MH
> 
>  
> 
> _I am finally letting him go and I wish the best for him._
> 
>  
> 
> It's quite generous and romantic of you. MH
> 
>  
> 
> _It's the new me! Do you need help to find your special someone, Mister Holmes?_
> 
>  
> 
> No, not really my area. MH
> 
>  
> 
> _Love?_
> 
>  
> 
> People. MH
> 
>  
> 
> _That's sad, let me know if you change your mind..._
> 
>  
> 
> I doubt it, but I will. Thanks again for your surprising help in the current affair. MH
> 
>  
> 
> _My pleasure, Mister Holmes. Oh, and by the way._
> 
>  
> 
> Yes? MH
> 
>  
> 
> _They just found the lube._

  

> (user is disconnected)

 

Groaning, Mycroft covers his eyes with his hand, as if he was able to chase the image that popped in his head, and drops his phone in his pocket.  _And it's not 1 PM yet..._

"Everything is alright Mycroft? Nothing wrong with them?" Greg asks, worried by the man's expression. They were on their way to 221B to inform Harry and Molly of the new development. 

"No, everything is going fine... It seems like they found a  _terrain d'entente._ " The government man sigh.

"This is not an international treaty you know," the DI chuckles, happy for his friends. "You don't need to be so damn official about it!"

"I know. But I am not used to... all this."

"I'm sure that you are able to do so if you want, you do care about your little brother, there's no shame to be demonstrative about it once in a while..."  the policeman said to the younger man, "yes, you are polite and a bit cold --"

"How dare --"

"it's okay, I understand! It's the byproduct of the public school education and the work you do..."  

"You can't understand." Mycroft murmurs, defeated. "Or, in fact, you are one of the few who may understand."

"Explain then..." 

"I have quite a few enemies... Could you imagine what could happen to anyone too close to me?"

"I think that Sherlock is able to protect himself, and you are able to protect anyone you choose to open your heart to."

"I've been informed that I don't have a heart, DI Lestrade," Mycroft replies as he straightens his already rigid back. "So that conversation is pointless." 

"Oh? Is it because that beautiful, bright and faithful PA of yours already has complete custody of it?" Greg jokes, knowing that the relationship between the two of them was a bit more personal then what they show to the public, and that with a bit of steering in the right direction... "Last time I saw her, I felt it..." Playfully, he punches Mycroft's arm and winks. "You know what I mean!" The car stops before Mycroft was able to protest against the blatant intrusions into his private life. "Baker Street! Finally! I hope that Molly is feeling better this morning!" Jumping out of the car, he restrains himself to caper to the door. _Steady! I'm a grown man!_

Rolling his eyes at the lack of decorum of the policeman,  _a man of 10 years my senior!,_ Mycroft walks up the stairs slowly. He was about to enters the flat when he was surrounded by the shrill of many waves of  _female_  laughter followed by the cooing of Lestrade and Molly as the pathologist repeats all the little secrets the newly named, "Girls of Baker Street" shared around many cups of tea.  _I don't think I am really needed here?  And I need to talk to Anthea anyway, it's been hours since... and... she looks particularly nice today and... NO! Oh! It's impossible!_ His dramatic realization that maybe (MAYBE!) he was having feelings (SOMETHING!) for his PA was cut short by the screaming of a little girl. 

"Uncle Myyyyyyyyy!" 

_Bugger! Too late..._


	29. At least it can’t get any worse!

Blissfully unaware of the invasion of their beloved 221b, John and Sherlock were still in bed, a bit more exhausted than before. 

John was falling slowly into a wonderful slumber when a noise, an unbelievable noise, an out of this world sound!, resonates in the quiet room. "Sherlock!" John chuckles. "Is this... Oh my God... I can't believe it!" He was fighting so, so, so hard but starts laughing without being able to stop himself. The scientist mumbling facts about peristalsis didn't help! 

Affronted by his lover reaction, Sherlock disengages himself from the now not so clean sheet.  _John may have a good point. Taking a few minutes to clean ourselves is - even if not utterly romantic and quite prosaic - essential._

Laughing furthermore at the disgusted face of the detective, John wasn't able to resist "Told you, love, it's better to tidy up _before_ falling asleep... Next time --"

"If you want to have the opportunity of another time, you'd better stop laughing at me right now..." but the serious of the menace was utterly destroyed by another rumble from Sherlock's stomach. "GOD! This is irritating! It's your fault!"

Raising himself on an elbow, the doctor was able to keep the giggles in check long enough to ask incredulously, "HOW could it be my fault?"

"You are constantly insisting that I eat at regular intervals! You tell me it's for Rosie's sake... but I know that you are just  _happy_  to feed me!" 

Unable to resist, John murmurs with a sexy smile. "I fed you well enough in the last few hours..."

With delightfully cute pink cheeks, the beautiful git finally rises from the bed, stark naked. "As an average ejaculation is only 15 to 20 calories... you're going to have to do better if you want to fatten me up!" 

 

John was back on the pillows, a dreamy look in his eyes, when Sherlock's voice wakes him from his beautiful thoughts. "JOHN! I AM really hungry!"

"Is this what my life is going to become now?" John asks playfully, "being at your service?"

"Don't be delusional, honey, it's always been this way.... but you know what?" he walks back in the room and presses his lips on John's with a smack "so am I."

"You're lucky I love you, you know?" John replies while he fights with his t-shirt. _I won't walk naked in this house, who knows how many cameras there are!_   Looking around the room with suspicion, he tries to confirm if the bedroom was free of any extra eyes and ears.

Sherlock shrugs dismissively at the doctor obvious concern, "Don't fuss, John, of course, there is a camera somewhere, she does like to check on her little project." before leaving the room to survey the fridge.

_Shit! Time to go home! And I am missing Rosie a bit if I am honest. And we're going to survey the flat for any signs of Mycroft's surveillance!_ Rushing to the back of the bedroom he was looking for the damn key when he heard the voice of his own personal genius. 

"And we don't need the key, the lock was somewhat easy... It took me two and a half minutes. I just sent a text to my brother, a car will be here in two hours."

John, once more flabbergasted by how easily Sherlock was able to read him - except for the fact that he was in love with him for years, of course - nearly jumps in his arms. The idea of the cameras now completely forgotten. "You didn't tell me that you still had your phone, sexy git! What are we going to do... for two long hours?"

"Really don't know..." The detective chuckles, while he sits _his_ doctor on the countertop. "But, one thing first, honey," Sherlock asks with a twinkle in his eyes.

"What, love?"

Murmuring in his ear, he pleads, "I am, really, _really_ , hungry!" 

"Okay, okay! If you faint later, I want to be the cause... not from a lack of food!" Laughing, John jumps down and heads to the fridge for a makeshift lunch/snack.  _We still have plenty of time..._

 

 

Once in front of 221b three hours and a half later - the chauffeur will remember the sight of the two naked men doing it on the kitchen table for years - they look at each other with a soft smile. 

"Are we ready for what's going to happen next?"

"Next?" Sherlock asks, frowning. Now that he was certain, the idea of having a doubt about anything was foreign to him.

"About the others... about Rosie..."

"Oh,  **our**  people really wanted us to be together for years... Rosie going to be ecstatic and I don't care about the others." Holding John's hand, he bravely opens the door and starts climbing the stairs. Before halting on the spot at the amount of noise that was coming from their flat! _What the Hell? What is everyone we know doing here?_

As the door was unlocked, it was easy for them to enter discreetly as everyone was around the kitchen table drinking wine and eating amuses-bouche.

_Are they having a fucking party?_ John mouths silently to an amused detective, pointing toward his little girl. 

Rosie, clearly excited by all the action and the sweets she had been given all day was jumping around a stoic Mycroft "Do you think they are going to get married? I want a beautiful dress and I want to dance!"

"A wedding! At least, it can't get any worse than the last one!" Ms. Hudson sniggers discreetly in Harry's ear.  

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ms. Hudson," John, talking from the opened door of their flat, surprises the little cackling group. _"_ but I wouldn't count on that if I were you, Sherlock does love a nice complicated murder and..." he looks at Sherlock lovingly, "I am aiming to please." 

"And anyway," his lover's voice echoes, "if all of you could just go... I don't know... elsewhere. Now. I want a nice evening with Rosie and John and an early bedtime with my boyfriend."

After many laughs, emotional kisses on the cheek or strong hugs the little crowd disappeared quickly. Each one giving a promise of texting, babysitting, calling or coming back in a few days.  All with an overabundance of winking.

 

And they were finally alone.  The three of them. The 221b family.


	30. Do we really have to do this again?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet parentlock :-)

As the door closed, the men exchange a devious look. Walking toward his boyfriend, John announces with a sultry - yet PG - tone, "finally alone, Mister Holmes." 

"It seems so, Doctor Watson," the detective replies quietly in return.

"But... I am here!" Rosie protests.

"Did you hear something?" The little girl's father asks, mockingly raising his head to listen. 

Turning around with a deadpanned look, Sherlock replies seriously.  "Not a pip! Or... maybe... Do we have a cat? I think we used to have a cat? Didn't we? Or a hamster?"

"Don't be silly!! It's me! It's me!!!"

Suddenly, John laughs diabolically and grabs his daughter playfully.  "Ohhhhh! What is this!  I found a mischievous little girl in our flat!" Holding the child close, he tickles her until she was unable to speak.

"Da--... Da... ddy! Stop!" As Sherlock watches with a smile, unaware if he was allowed to participate, Rosie suddenly screams for help. "Sherlock! Help me!" falling on the floor because she was laughing too much, she cries again, "help me, Papa! Dad... Daddy won't sto... stop!"

"Ah! Ah! Your papa is not going to fight against me!" The doctor teases. "He's afraid that I'm going to... wrinkle his magic aubergine shirt!"  

Emotional at the idea that John was including him in their father-daughter play time, Sherlock growls theatrically, throwing his coat on a nearby chair. "My shirt is not important if the life of Princess Rosie is in danger!" Dropping near the still laughing child, he winks at her before he jumps on John, effectively pushing him to the living room carpet. "And the only way to free her is to... tickle her assailant!" 

Now free of her father's attentions, Rosie sides with Sherlock quickly. "Me too! Me too! What can I do, Papa?"

"I think the best is to... REMOVE HIS SHOES!"

The rest was lost to Rosie's laughter, John's little screams when the tickling of his feet starts and Sherlock's warm chuckles as he presses his boyfriend to the floor. 

 

 

After too little or too many minutes (depending on which side you asked,) the game ended, leaving the grown men, as well as Rosie, completely exhausted!    

"Daddy... I'm hungry!" 

"Impossible, you ate enough candy and cookies to be full for a week!" John argues with a smile.

"Yes, but it's not a real meal," knowing that her father was going to be sensitive to her argument. "I am becoming taller every day! I need food if I want to be as big as Papa!"

Rising from the floor, and holding a hand to help John, Sherlock wasn't able to restrain a smirk."Oh! Stop it!" John chuckles, too happy to care before murmuring in Sherlock's ear "so what if I'm smaller than you... didn't hear any complaints about certain other parts of my body..."

"Are you going to kiss?" Rosie asks out-of-the-blue.

"Do you mind if we do?" John replies, seriously. Kneeling down in front of her to look into her eyes. "Is it... is it weird for you if Sherlock and I are..." searching for the right words, the doctor pauses for a second.

"It's okay because I know that boys can love boys and girls can love girls and sometimes someone can love boys and girls." She nods seriously. "We talked about this at school. And Catherine has two daddies and Patrick has two mums." She frowns, thinking about stories she heard at school "and sometimes a daddy got a girlfriend that isn't nice... like my friend Michael. I love Sherlock. I don't want a new mum."

"It's okay, darling, Sherlock is not going anywhere." Turning his gaze to fix it on the detective, he smiles softly. "I love your papa very much and I do want to kiss him."

"And sleep in the same bed, this is important, you must sleep in the same bed." her tone was adamant!

"And, of course, I want us to sleep in the same bed..." John calmly replies as his daughter jumps in his arms, nearly tumbling him on the floor again. Hugging her daddy, Rosie mutters something about how Nana's plan worked. 

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock murmurs just out of Rosie's hearing "Of course... half of bloody London was on our case..."

Keeping Rosie in his arms, John grunts as he rises to his feet. "Pad thai from that place we all love?"

"Yes!" Sherlock and Rosie cry at once.

  

 

Later, when everyone was full, Rosie was clean and in bed -  _I know that you are sleeping on the first floor with Sherlock but I am not afraid! S_ herlock and John both collapsed on the sofa.

"What a day..." John sighs.

"What a week..." Sherlock adds.

"Thank God Rosie is already sleeping... after all that sugar it's a miracle!" 

The detective's hand joins John's, fingers intertwined. "She was drained by all the drama... it was a big week for her! All that planning with Ms. Hudson, running from one flat to one another." 

"Yes... poor baby." His head falls on Sherlock's shoulder without realizing it. "She wanted us to be happy, that's so sweet."

"Does it... does it bother you?"

"What, love? Nothing about us can bother me!"

"That she called me..." The word was foreign to his lips, he waits a second before murmuring, "Papa."

"No, I love it." Placing a hand on Sherlock's cheek, he kisses him lovingly. "And you... Do you mind?"

"No, it's the best gift... the best. She's so precious to me... you have no idea."

"I think I have..." replacing his head on his boyfriend's shoulder, he closes his eyes. A moment later, chocolate curls mixed with his short blond hair as Sherlock's head falls on his.

Five minutes later, they were both asleep with a smile on their lips, still holding hands. 

Emotions are really draining little things.

  

 

They were still on the sofa when Rosie found them in the morning. Rushing to Ms. Hudson's flat, she rapidly drags her into their living-room for her opinion on the 'alarming' situation. Murmuring softly, she points at the offensive sight! "Nana, they are not in the same bed, is it okay?"

"Yes, darling, don't worry!" The old lady says, stifling a laugh.

"So we don't have to do it again? Our secret plan?"

"No, everything is perfect! Come with me, I'm going to make waffles for breakfast..."

"I love Daddy and Papa! And I love you, Nana!"

"Me too, darling." While waiting for the little girl to put on her slippers, Ms. Hudson turns to look one last time in the direction of the sofa.  _Yes, everything is finally as it should be._


	31. I've wait so long for this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little conclusion

John was rummaging around the flat, getting everything ready when he realized that he was alone. "Looooooove?" W _here the hell is he?_ "LOOOOOVE?"  _God, I can't do everything alone!_  "SHERLOCK!!"

Exiting the bathroom in his robe, still wet and his hair dishevelled, the detective looks around for any threats.  "What -" before calming a bit. "You called?"

Rolling his eyes, the doctor smiles anyway. "Yes, git, I need help moving the table on the side."

Turning to look at the table in the living that was usually their shared office he frowns. "Why? That table has been there since day one." 

"We're going to put the buffet on it, so help me to move it the other way around and put our computers and papers away." His voice, now with remnants of his time in the army, was particularly distracting to the said ex-captain's boyfriend.

"I would put it directly into the fire..." Sherlock replies, giving a little pat to John's bum. "If you asked... in that voice." 

"Oi!" John exclaims, moving his tempting behind out of range."We don't have the time for games!" Checking the clock for the thousandth time in the last few hours. "Shit! Only 45 minutes before they arrive!" 

Holding his side of the table and doing what was asked for him for a change, Sherlock mumbles under his breath, "I still don't understand why YOU invited everyone you know..."

"Everyone WE know... and not everyone, only the ones who were a part of that little bad reality-show to make us fall in each other's arms. Finally, if I may add." He kisses the tall man sweetly but quickly before rushing to fuss with the things on the mantel before shaking out a tablecloth. "Still have tons to do!"

"But... John... I don't believe they had anything to do with us... being finally us." Still arguing he was shoveling everything from the table on a platter before pushing it under the sofa when John turns toward him.

"Love! Not under the..." shaking his head and with few minutes to spare John finally says nothing as he drapes the linen over the table.  _Okay, it's fairly clean. Time  for a quick shower myself! Thank God the food is not complicated._ "Sherlock, I'm going for a quick shower, could you please go downstairs to get Rosie and Ms. H? She's going to help us prep the food and the drinks."

"Or I can join you in the..."

Laughing, John singsongs a loud '"No-O" before closing the door of the bathroom.

Turning on his heel, the detective rushes to his (their!) bedroom to get dressed, wondering once more why he agreed that they should host this party!  _I must have been out of my mind!_

> A week ago, they were lazily relaxing in bed(in the same bed, kudos, Rosie!) while the little girl was having a sleepover at Molly's flat. Closely hugging his boyfriend, John chuckles at the idea of what he was going to say to Sherlock.  _It's a brilliant idea!_ "
> 
> Mmmmm what?"
> 
> "Nothing." Even without a visual, the detective was able to read the smile on John's lips.
> 
> "Go on... What's so funny?" Thinking about the glorious make out session - the several sessions more precisely - of the evening and night before, he was unable to come up with something remotely funny.
> 
> "It's just that... First, don't you think that it's sweet how everyone is suddenly asking Rosie for a sleepover? Molly, Harry, even your mom!" It's been 7 weeks now since the 'fake but real abduction' and everything was going really well. They had plenty of alone time to finish any discussions that were needed... and a lot of free time was spent exploring the more physical part.   _All the physical parts..._  John sighs, hands hovering over his boyfriend's torso, without touching.  _Oh, fuck he's pretty._  
> 
> "And? The idea of Mummy participating in this is not remotely funny to me." In fact, he was still annoyed at Mycroft for spilling the beans to his parents only a few days after their little escapade at the cottage.
> 
> "He was probably cornered by your mum about Anthea and said it as a way out. But that's not all, it's just that... you are not going to be happy about what I'm going to say." Unable to control himself, the doctor chuckles, hiding his laughter in the brunet's shoulder.
> 
> Still new at all this romance business, Sherlock was a bit worried "And... the realization that I will not be pleased, is something that... amuses you?"  
> 
> "No, no... don't be silly." Holding his head up, he watches the worried eyes of the love of his life. "It's just that... what do you think about hosting a party to, you know, thank everybody?"
> 
> Closing his eyes, Sherlock's head drops dramatically on the pillow while he pulls the bedspread over him, "Nooooooooooo...."
> 
> "It's not a good way to avoid discussion darling... If you bring me under the blanket." Moving to rest over his boyfriend, he starts peppering kisses over his body, until the detective's mood was back to his sexy as hell self. "Come on... it's going to be fun..."
> 
> "Do whatever you want, Ohhhhhhh... even start a knitting club for horrible jumpers, but don't stop what you are doing now!!!"  
> 
> Laughing at his easy win, the doctor murmurs, "I love you... you've got no idea how much, do you..." before rewarding him in the most brilliant manner, his heart bursting of love at the fact that his boyfriend's extensive vocabulary was suddenly down to only few words. 

>  "John... love... you... Jawnnnnn!"

 

The evening was going splendidly! The food was great, the alcohol abundant and of great quality (Thanks to Mycroft), it was a success so far. Everyone was happy for the couple, exchanging stories about how clueless and how obvious they were. And Rosie... Rosie was delighted that was she was considering "her plan" worked so well! Talking to everyone about how it was her idea and that she's so pleased to have a papa to go with her daddy.

"And to think that Sherlock was suddenly listening and nearly polite to that little scrumpy man --" Lestrade starts when he was playfully slapped by John.

"Hey! You're supposed to be my mate!" A beer in hand, the doctor was smiling, knowing perfectly how bad he was back then.

Protecting John's pride, Sherlock protests from the other side of the room where he was chatting with his brother. "Be careful of what you are saying! My boyfriend is quite a good shot!" 

"Yes, even on that first case... that taxi driver! What a sh --" Closing his mouth as he realizes what he just said, the DI turns quickly muttering an excuse and rushes near Molly and Harry.

"THAT WAS YOU!" Donovan was looking at John, gobsmacked. They never really knew... "I thought it was a sniper or something that Holmes' brother was paying to protect Sherlock! That was quite an excellent shot!"

"Yeah... let's just say, it's not something we talk about much." John smiles, his cheeks a bit red.

Holding the doctor's gaze, she murmurs to herself. "So, even back then... On the first few days."

"Yes. Totally. Or at least a 'falling in love' kind of link... but for friendship." From afar, his eyes were always going back to Sherlock, so proud of how well he was doing with the little gathering, even if it's wasn't his forte. Sally's sad tone brought him back to the conversation.

"We've fucked up everything back then, I'm remembering how I told you to get away from him. That he was dangerous..."

"I am not perfect either, you know," John admits. "And at that time, he was truly a posh brat."

"I heard that!!!!" The detective shouts.

"I love you too," was the only excuse the doctor gives before he quietly returns to his conversation with Donovan.

 

"He really does, you know..." Mycroft smiles. "All this, it's quite extraordinary. For... men like us to... It's true that finally, we are not the same on many accounts."

"You know, brother mine, men like us deserve love as much as the average moron." Sherlock chuckles, but keeps a serious eye on his brother.

A sad smile appears briefly on Mycroft's lips. "I think you spent all the luck the fairies spread over us in our youth... but it's okay. I'm really happy for you both. And Irene also... She texted me this morning. But it's not for me."

"You know, with the number of  _fairies_  in that room. I think we can do better than that." Checking his phone, he grins mysteriously.

With a slight tone of panic, the government asks, "what have you done?" 

"Me? Nothing?" Sherlock replies earnestly. "It's all John's doing. He told me that a surprise was going to arrive at 21:30 and that, if you are not a pompous arse -  _his words, not mine_  - you should be happy." As Mycroft turns to talk to his new brother-in-law, Anthea suddenly appears at the door to Sherlock's pleasure. "Oh... that's really good John. I think I'm going to marry you!"

"Of course you're going to, I can't think of anybody else that's as accepting of experiments on the dinner table as I am." John deadpans, the fondness between them was so apparent, that most of the guests start cooing at the scene. 

Except for Mycroft and Anthea, who were frozen in place until a voice coming from the corridor wakes them up. "Oh! Come on Myc' go talk with Anthea, I'm certain that Sherlock does not mind if you use his bedroom!" Mycroft, shocked by his mother's words, freezes in place until a small hand squeezes his as his mother makes a beeline to his younger brother.

"Mummy! What a pleasure but... How?"  the detective stammers.

"Oh, it's your darling man! He asked Anthea to bring us here." Walking toward the grinning doctor, she hugs him fiercely. "Johhhhhh, I'm so happy! You've been a part of the family for so long... but now!" Spinning rapidly she embraces Sherlock as well and mutters happily, "have you just  _matter of factly_ proposed to the man, my son? You must do better than that later, with a nice meal and everything!" Tapping his cheeks happily, she rushes to her husband who helps to remove her coat. Leaving both her sons flabbergasted in the middle of the room.

 

As everyone was finally there, and suddenly silent, Stamford clears his voice and raises his glass. "You've got no idea of how happy I am right now! I’ve waited - we've ALL waited - so long for this. There's only a certain quantity of pining a human can absorb before starting to scream!” The little group, mostly back from the case of feels Mrs. Holmes gave them, laugh as Mike shakes his head. "From the first minute I knew! I knew that these two men were made for each other! And - if I heard you right Sherlock - I just want to say that I am available if you want someone to officiate a wedding and I know a little girl who wants a twirling blue dress with white roses..." Rosie, now in Sherlock and John's arms, shrills of delight as laughter rise again. "So, only one more thing to say before we go back to the delicious food and wine... To John and Sherlock!"

Applause and cheers erupt in the little flat, as the couple softly exchange a kiss, still holding a beaming Rosie. "It's all because of me! And you know what?" She claims loudly to the delighted assistance. "They are sleeping in the same bed!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of that little Fictober adventure!
> 
> If you are still there, let me know what you think of it!
> 
> Merci beaucoup tout le monde x


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